


touch the ground again

by Esselle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, Feelings Realization, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Reunions, Slow Burn, post-university
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13234269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: 'Hinata is already suspended, flawless form. The lines of his body are smooth, flowing; feet kicked back, arm outstretched to the sky that he could reach with wings no one can see—but that Kageyama knows have always been there, sprouted from his shoulder blades where his back curves in a perfect arc to meet them.For the past several years, Kageyama has been living in freefall.As he watches Hinata fly, his feet touch the ground again.'--Kageyama returns to Tokyo from playing abroad, to fix his mistake from four years earlier. Hinata is not ready to be patched back together yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has some **spoilers** up to chapter 282 of the manga, so please be aware if you aren't caught up. It will also contain sexual content in the second half.
> 
> **Playlist:[Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/essellewrites/playlist/4JNr9FFSYNoK3t9LyJWdhC) | [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8RWissld6x9QvoPBlkyYrHGFbC0Sp0oZ)**

Kageyama runs down the empty, icy road too fast, speed so reckless he nearly slips rounding a corner. It's only grabbing the lamppost on the sidewalk that saves him from a nasty fall. A broken neck would sort of compromise this entire operation, but he's too jittery to take things slowly.

Being too slow about shit is what landed him in this position in the first place; he's done with that now, he's decided.

He checks the street sign to make sure he's still headed in the right direction—where the scribbles on the piece of paper crumpled up in his pocket have instructed him to go. They brought him here. This road. This address. This house.

The door looms suddenly in front of him. Kageyama stops dead in his tracks and stares at it. He's meant to be knocking, now, he's supposed to knock. His arm won't raise, his cold fingers ball into fists by his sides.

It's late in the evening already. Maybe he's not home—maybe, _shit,_ maybe he went home for the holidays. Maybe it's not even the right place. Maybe he's moved.

Maybes are more dangerous than Nevers, because they still leave room for regrets.

Kageyama knocks on the door.

His resolve fails him instantly. He hasn't thought this through at all, he realizes. He just went racing off at the first sign the universe had shown him; forgetting that universal signs didn't always mean the same thing to different people.

Especially not after four years of silence. He feels a sense of dread colder than any claw of winter wind rake down his spine and he turns, ready to walk away from the door and the man who may or may not be inside the house.

There is a creaking, hinges squeaking, and he stops in his tracks.

"You're really not going to wait more than four seconds for me to answer?"

He turns back around slowly. The door is open. The person looking back at him is so familiar that all the Maybes scatter. He's still short. His hair is still orange. He still looks at Kageyama in a way that makes it seem like he knows him infinitely better than anyone else. It's not encouraging.

"How did you know it was—"

"You still knock the same," Hinata says.

Kageyama didn't know he knocked in any particular way, at all.

"I didn't want to bother you," he croaks.

Hinata stares at him, and then barks out a laugh. 

"You're just," he waves a hand, "here, a few days before New Year's, but you didn't want to bother me?"

"If you were busy…" Kageyama says vaguely. They both know that's bullshit.

"I'm not busy."

"I'm coming back," Kageyama blurts out. Silence follows. Kageyama shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "Next year. I didn't want it to be a—I thought it would be best for the team, if—"

The door slams in his face. The lock clicks into place. Kageyama blinks at it, not entirely stunned. After a long moment, he knocks again. It doesn't open.

He turns, leaning against the wall, then slides down it until he's sitting on the cold floor, shifting so his duffel bag is in his lap. He tugs his hood up over his head and thinks through a great many things he could have done differently, now, and then years ago.

*

High school memories come swirling up unbidden, a bit like a toilet flushing in reverse. It's not the memories themselves that are crappy—these are still, Kageyama thinks, the best times of his life, the ones he wishes he could most go back to. But they really throw the present into stark contrast, and it's comparing the two that he likes to avoid, as much as he can.

There's certain moments that stick out to him more than others when he's dwelling on the way things are, as opposed to the way they were. One in particular—way back and long ago, but he still remembers what the room, the stadium, sounded like, during that match against Inarizaki. Strange, because at the time, he'd heard nothing but the rush of his own heartbeat, saw only the ball, where it was connecting. He had a knack, for being able to know the path ahead of time, and he'd been sure that spike by one of the twins was going to be another point scored.

He remembers how slow everything had seemed to move, when instead, Hinata was there.

With that impossible receive, miracle save, one-in-a-million. Hinata had been just as shocked as the rest of them but it hadn't stopped him from _being there._

Really, nothing could have ever stopped him from being there. Not having no one and losing in middle school. Not his height, not his lack of finesse, not how hard he had to work. Not being shut out of a training camp he should have been invited to, not keeping his head down and being the ball boy instead of the ace.

Not even Kageyama himself, with his early dismissal, and his tendency to be too hard on Hinata, and his staggering inability to ever let him know the things he should.

 _Perfect,_ he'd thought. _But I'm not going to tell him that yet._

*

Kageyama jolts awake as he loses his balance, falling backwards before he's conscious enough to keep himself upright. He lands on his back half over the threshold of the doorway to Hinata's house.

Hinata stands over him, still holding the door open. It seems for a second that shock has wiped away his scowling. He looks rumpled and soft in fleece pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

"…time's'it?" Kageyama manages to mumble.

"Have you—" Hinata starts to shout, and then catches himself, finishes on a loud hiss, "—lost your mind?!"

Kageyama blinks up at him. "No."

"Get _up,"_ Hinata orders him. "Do you even know what time it is? Were you—did you fall asleep?!"

Kageyama sits up. His nose has been running, apparently, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand. His fingers feel like they're frozen solid, and his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth. It's cold as fuck out there.

"I was waiting," he says. It's true enough.

"For _what?"_ Hinata asks. "I thought you'd leave! I was almost asleep!"

"How'd you know I was still out here, then?"

"Because I heard you fall against the door, you asshole," Hinata says, "so stop trying to pretend you've been awake this whole time."

Kageyama shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. He glares at nothing in particular. "I _was_ waiting. I just fell asleep, too." He wants to talk about things other than his ability to fall asleep fucking anywhere. He has important shit to say, and now that Hinata has opened the door again, he is going to say it. "Hinata, I wanted—"

"Go home," Hinata tells him. "I'm going back to bed."

Kageyama is, however, sitting inside his doorway, now. He shuffles his duffel bag in his lap and doesn't move.

"I wanted—"

"What makes you even think I should hear you out?" Hinata says.

"Nothing," Kageyama says. He swallows. "Nothing makes me think that."

"Then why won't you leave?"

"Because I was hoping you would anyway," Kageyama tells him. "And I forgot to get a hotel room."

Hinata's mouth falls open. Kageyama is fully prepared to be banished to the elements, but then Hinata turns around, and walks away without a word, back inside his house. Unsure of what this means, Kageyama stands up. He looks behind himself, at the door Hinata has left open and the cold outside.

"Should I leave…?" he calls.

"I guess that's still up to you," comes the reply.

Kageyama bites the inside of his cheek to hold in his response. It wasn't like he thought any part of this would be easy, he reminds himself. He closes the door behind him, and the chill is somewhat lessened.

He hadn't expected Hinata to have a house. He'd imagined an apartment somewhere in the middle of the city, probably a little upscale, but not enough that a country idiot turned pro-athlete couldn't still feel comfortable. A house in the quiet suburbs outside the city, a little single family home, wasn't what he'd been expecting. Maybe Hinata has just changed a lot over the past few years. That's acceptable, isn't it? It's not unlike people to change. Kageyama tries not to frown even more than he already is.

Hinata seems to have disappeared back into his room, and Kageyama isn't sure whether or not he can expect him to come back out on his own. Kageyama wonders what will happen if he just sleeps under the kotatsu—will Hinata have him arrested?

He tries a quiet knock on Hinata's room door. There's no response. Cautiously, he opens the door.

Hinata is sitting on the bed. He has his head in his hands and he doesn't look up when Kageyama enters.

"Hinata…" he says, and then decides he's never going to get anywhere if he doesn't just spit it out, even if Hinata doesn't want to hear it. "Look, I'm sorry for turning up out of nowhere. I just—I know we need to talk, and—"

"You know that, huh?" Hinata cuts him off. He raises his head, finally, and Kageyama feels the urge to recoil intensify. Hinata's eyes are as cold and unforgiving as ice. "Why didn't you book a _hotel room,_ Kageyama?"

In hindsight, yes, it does seem obviously stupid. But two days ago, Kageyama had been featured in the sports section of one of Tokyo's major newspapers. The front cover announced in bold letters: _All-Star Volleyball Titan Set to Return From Germany; Accepts Team Japan Offer._

The cover had an imposing picture of him staring at the camera, finally wearing the all red jersey he'd turned down once before. The one he used to dream of wearing, until he'd learned his horizons could expand even broader. It had been a good article, but he hadn't finished reading it.

He'd spotted the small write-up in the corner of his two page spread, the title neutral in stark letters:

_"Small Giant" Hinata Shouyou Announces Departure from Men's National Volleyball Team._

Very few details were given, including where Hinata planned to go next. It couldn't be a coincidence, Kageyama thought, no way. He may not know Hinata inside and out, anymore, but he still _knew_ him. He reached for his phone without thinking and then set it down again. He couldn't call; he couldn't _just_ call.

He bought the first ticket back to Tokyo he could, and he called Yachi, instead, for Hinata's home address. If she wondered why now, after so much time had passed, she didn't ask.

And now, here he is.

"I just didn't think about it," he says. He's still holding his bag, he should put it down, but clutching it to his chest makes him feel almost comforted, somehow.

"You didn't think about where to stay," Hinata says, "or you didn't think about what'd happen if you just showed up here?"

The correct answer is both. Kageyama hadn't even made it to finding a place to stay because he'd been too busy avoiding thinking about what a bad idea it was to turn up unannounced on Hinata's doorstep. If he'd planned that far ahead, he might never have gone through with it.

"I saw the article," he says instead.

"Congratulations," Hinata mutters.

"Are you leaving because of me?" Kageyama asks.

Hinata's mouth presses into a thin, thin line, and Kageyama knows instantly that he's said something very wrong. But instead of exploding, Hinata crosses his arms.

"What makes you think that?" Hinata asks him.

"There was no reason given in the article," Kageyama says, blundering on ahead. "No mention of where you're going. I can tell a last minute decision when I see one, especially because I know—"

"Especially what?" Hinata snaps. "Because you know me?

"Because—" Kageyama starts, and then hesitates.

If he says this… if he says what he thinks, then he's putting all of his fears over the past four years into words. But he didn't come back to be vague about this shit—he came back to _do something_ about it. He takes a deep breath.

"Because I know you don't want to play with me anymore."  

Hinata is silent for a long moment. "If you thought that," he finally says, "then why did you even bother coming back to Japan?"

Kageyama's heart sinks. He was right. He was right but he just spent two days, twelve hours awake on a plane, four long years hoping he wasn't right and not having a clue how to do anything about it.

"You get more chances abroad," Hinata says, ticking the list off on his fingers, "you're doing a lot there, you're playing at the highest level—"

"I was going to tell you I was coming back—"

Hinata stands up; still as short and as terrifying as ever when he's angry. "You're not answering my question!"

"I wanted to talk to you about it, and then I saw the article and I just—I wanted to get here before it was finalized, I wanted to talk to you about staying—"

"About _staying?"_ Hinata sputters. "Now you want to talk about that? You can't be serious—"

"I am!" Kageyama says. "Because I think we can still play together, I _want_ to—" 

"I'm not leaving because of you!"

Kageyama's rant staggers to a stop. "It's—you're not?"

Hinata laughs derisively. "It's been a long time since my ability to play revolved around you," he reminds Kageyama.

"I know that," Kageyama says. He's known that since he was sixteen. "That's not why."

"Do you _really_ think I want to leave because I don't want to play together again?" His own question, turned back around on him. "When we haven't since _high school?"_

They had been on rival teams during their university years, and that had been its own type of challenge in many ways. Of course they'd played together, here and there, but nothing official. Once Kageyama left for Germany, that had been the end of his setting for Hinata in any capacity, for reasons that didn't just end with geographical distance. It had been a long time since they'd both stood on the same side of the court.

"Why would you ask me that?" Kageyama asks. "Why would I say it if it isn't what I thought?"

Hinata shakes his head. "I don't base my life decisions around our old partnership, Kageyama. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I don't… I don't _know,_ anymore." Kageyama says. "I don't know."

"No, you don't _get_ to say that!" Hinata says, voice rising. "You don't—get to _blame me_ the way you did, and then say you aren't sure anymore once I cut you off!"

"I'm not saying it about you," Kageyama says. He has no right to assume he knows what Hinata is feeling; he never _did._ "I'm saying it about me. If you want to cut me off, I get it, I _do_ —but I'm trying to—"

"Why did you come back?" Hinata asks.

Kageyama looks up at him. He saw the article, he bought the plane ticket. But it's taken him awhile to figure out that this is it, his clear objective:

"To try and make you stay." It's bullshit to try and say otherwise.

Hinata blinks at him. "Get out."

"Hinata—"

"Get _out."_ Hinata points at the door and the hallway beyond. "If that's why you're here, then 'I don't know' sure as _shit_ isn't gonna cover it."

"No, it isn't," Kageyama agrees, because there's nothing else he can say.

"You can't just—I can't—" Hinata is shaking his head rapidly. "I _can't_ do this—so just—just _leave—"_

 _"Okay,_ " Kageyama says, if only to ease the wild look in Hinata's eyes. "Okay, I'll go. I'm sorry, I'll just—"

"You don't even have—a fucking—hotel room—" Hinata chokes out. "Why did you even—"

"I'm sorry!" Kageyama says, desperately. "I just wanted to _see you."_

"Well, I didn't want to see _you!"_ Hinata shouts. Like he's trying to avoid exactly that, he puts his hands over his face. He speaks past his palms, voice muffled. "Take the guest room, Kageyama."

"I don't want to—"

 _"Take. It,_ " Hinata orders. "I have—I have shit to do in the morning. I'm going to bed."

Numbly, Kageyama nods. He backs out of Hinata's room, closing the door behind him, and then wanders down the hall until he finds the guest room. He drops his bag on the floor and then follows it, sitting against the wall, wondering how he could have possibly fooled himself into thinking things might go better than they just had.

It's been four years since he last spoke to Hinata. That's one Maybe crossed off the list.

_Maybe Hinata doesn't hate you anymore._

Turns out, he definitely does.

*

"I'm taking the other offer."

Four years earlier, Kageyama had said those words. 

Hinata hadn't heard him at first. They were watching a championship game on TV—Kageyama had recorded it and saved it to watch when Hinata could come over to his place. He was completely engrossed, as always. Just like Kageyama might have been, without all the thoughts hammering away inside his head.

"What?" Hinata asked, barely blinking away from the game. "Oh, that receive just now—!"

"The offer from Germany," Kageyama said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm going to take it."

Hinata stared at the TV a moment longer, before turning to face him. They were sitting close on the couch; Kageyama's arm over the back, behind Hinata. If Hinata had sat back, he could have leaned against Kageyama, tucked against his side, but he was always on the edge of his seat during games. Kageyama knew this; it was what made sitting that way safe.

But now their faces were close, close enough that Kageyama could see the way the reflection changed in the reflection of Hinata's eyes as he stared at Kageyama in confusion.

"You're considering it, you mean?" he asked.

"No, I decided—" Kageyama shrugged. "I accepted it."

"You already—what? When?"

"Last week."

"Last _week?"_ Hinata repeated, bewildered. "And you're just telling me _now?"_

"I wanted to tell you sooner," Kageyama said. "But there wasn't really a good time."

"Any time would have been a better time," Hinata said. "I accepted Team Japan's offer yesterday! I thought—you _let me think_ we both were! I thought we were going to play together again!"

"You know what an international offer means to me—I can't always do what you want, Hinata!"

The couch shifted slightly, shoved aside by the speed at which Hinata moved to stand, to put distance between them. Kageyama shot to his feet, too; it had always been so easy for him to get riled up when Hinata was.

"I thought it's what we _both_ wanted!" Hinata said, near shouting.

"I—"

"It's not Team Japan, Kageyama, it's _you!_ " Hinata pointed at him in accusation. "I want to be with you! I told you everything I feel!"

Kageyama had expected to take the Team Japan offer. He had said as much, and that's why Hinata had assumed—that's why Hinata had confessed to him something they both already knew, had come to realize since they'd left Karasuno, and absence made the heart grow impossibly fonder. Hinata loved lots of people, because he had stores and stores of it to give, but he was _in love_ with one person, and it wasn't a surprise.

What surprised Kageyama was that it seemed to be entirely independent of volleyball.

Somehow, Hinata had separated him from the sport. Most might have thought it impossible, but not Hinata, who had always found ways to achieve beyond. He loved volleyball, and he loved Kageyama, and he would always love them together; but he had found something more in Kageyama, he said, than just pinpoint tosses. He said this almost like it was obvious, a joke; Kageyama couldn't understand what that something more could possibly be.

He couldn't separate them. Their friendship, their partnership, anything more—he didn't know how to take them outside the context of how they'd first formed. Their goal had always been to keep climbing; if they settled, he didn't see how they could still do that. He didn't see how he could keep pushing himself forward if he decided, instead, to stay in one place.

He had been ready to take the same offer, the one that would let him stay with Hinata, when he began to wonder. Was it holding himself back, to turn away from the route that would give him the greater experience? And then, digging even deeper at the back of his mind, a darker hole too wide to fill back up again: was he holding back because of what Hinata had said to him?

Kageyama dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. Just because these things always came so easily for Hinata… "It's not the same for me!"

By the time he realized what he'd said, the words had already struck home. And he couldn't take them back, because they were true.

"You don't… you don't feel…" Hinata said, voice shrinking. It became so small, Kageyama could barely hear his next words. "It's not?"

Hinata had confessed, but he'd never tried to make Kageyama tell him how he felt in return. Perhaps this had been mercy, on his part, given how difficult they both knew it was for Kageyama to understand the first inklings of being friends, let alone something so much more. But Kageyama had thought Hinata hadn't assumed anything about his own feelings now, either.

That might have been too much to ask for.

Kageyama tried to explain. "I can't just let—I can't let a bunch of feelings make up my mind for me. This is the _world stage._ " Surely Hinata would understand that. He always had before—the world stage was everything filling up their sights.

But Hinata took a step back from him, eyes wide. "A bunch… of feelings?" he repeated. "Tobio… I _love_ you."

"I know you said that," Kageyama said, "but I _can't_ risk getting held back."

Hinata let out a sound that could have been a laugh or a wheeze, like someone had hit him with a serve straight to the chest. "Me loving you," he said, "holds you back?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"Then _what_ do you mean?" Hinata asked. "Was I—am I—just another stepping stone? All this time?"

Kageyama gaped at him. _How_ could that be the conclusion he reached? "You're my _partner,_ " he said, promised. "You've _always_ been."

"Because it _pushed_ you?" Hinata demanded. "And now?"

"I don't know. Nothing's _changed—_ " Kageyama said, and Hinata finally started to cry, furiously.

"You're using what I said as an excuse to leave!" he said. "You think I hold you back!"

"That's bullshit, Hinata!" Kageyama yelled. "I'd never—"

"Do you think," Hinata shouted over him, "that me being in love with you _holds you back?"_

They both fell silent after that, breathing heavy in the stillness of the room. Kageyama curled his hands into fists. If Hinata wanted to convince him not to leave because of whatever they might have between them, then the answer was obvious.

"Yes," he said.

Hinata straightened, tearing his eyes away from Kageyama's face. He wiped his wet face with his t-shirt silently. Kageyama tried to breathe evenly, wondering where they could go from there.

Then Hinata had lurched forward and punched the everloving shit out of him. It knocked Kageyama onto his ass, back slammed up against the foot of the couch. He didn't even have time to recover before Hinata had grabbed his overnight bag and left out the door, banging it behind him, to catch the train back home.

*

Kageyama jolts out of his stupor as the train announces his upcoming stop. At midday, the train is hardly packed, but he still feels like he's being crushed from all sides, a phantom weight bearing down on him until he can barely breathe. He lowers his head almost to his knees and grips his hair as the things he said, that he can never take back, echo inside him, over and over.

The entirety of that awful conversation has been playing in his head nonstop since he talked to Hinata the night before. He would have preferred it not repeat once again, only this time in the middle of a public train car on his way to downtown Tokyo, but beggars can't be choosers. And he has a lot of begging to do.

The woman next to him surreptitiously shifts away and he straightens up, trying to even out his expression. His face muscles are actually starting to hurt a bit from how contorted it is, and he knows he must look, at the very least, extremely constipated. It's his default, when he has a lot of feelings trying to escape that he doesn't know if he should strap down inside him, or let free.

Terrible metaphor, apt for his life.

The train slows and he hurries off it before too many more people can catch sight of his face. He doesn't have to decide what to do with his emotions right at this moment; more important is… He scans the crowd getting off at the platform and, with his height, manages to spot the much shorter figure by his messy red hair, weaving off through the station. Kageyama follows.

It's not _stalking,_ really. First, it seems Hinata has decided to spend the day at a nearby flea market. Although Kageyama knows next to nothing about flea markets, he does probably need to pick up some potential New Year's gifts for people he'll be seeing soon after his return home is finalized; his mother, in particular, has texted him at least three times more per day after he told her the news. But, second, Hinata probably wouldn't appreciate finding out he tagged along after nearly kicking Kageyama out of his house and into the cold the night before, so he does need to try and be a little sneaky.

Third, he's not trying to keep tabs on Hinata; he's just curious to see what he does by himself, wandering around Tokyo on a chilly sunny afternoon. He's curious to see if Hinata still skips when he walks, or looks up at the sky enough that he almost bumps into people and signs outside coffee shops more times than Kageyama can count. He wonders who stops Hinata from running into things now that he's not there, but that question is answered as he trails idly behind him, trying to look inconspicuous. Hinata still skips, and he seems to be humming to himself, but he has learned to keep his eyes forward. Kageyama wonders if there's a lot of other changes he's missed out on.

The flea market itself is chaos of a sort Kageyama doesn't entirely enjoy. It's loud and bustling and he feels like he's constantly about to step into someone's display or knock something over if he doesn't shrink in on himself, so he does; all the better to stay unseen. He's _not_ stalking, he tells himself again.

Hinata moves quickly. Kageyama thinks he mentioned before, back when they'd first moved out to Tokyo for school, that he liked the markets. "Lots of bargains!" he'd always say with a sort of manic gleam in his eye, as though discounts on ancient tea sets and slightly damaged furniture were the most exciting thing to a nineteen year old boy from the country. Then Kageyama remembers the way Hinata would zoom around the shops set up at the stadium where they played their games, his little coin purse clutched in his equally little hands, his eyes darting from vendor to vendor. Apparently, it wasn't just the volleyball merchandise that excited him.

Hinata dodges in and out of several of the larger stalls in short succession without picking up anything, so quickly that Kageyama almost loses him once or twice. He prowls among the rows and rows of _stuff,_ and slowly his collection of trinkets begins to grow—he's brought his own bag along, and Kageyama curses his own lack of foresight.

He is surprisingly successful at making a few purchases of his own, all while staying a few paces behind Hinata. As he's looking at some nicely carved chopsticks he suspects his mom might have snatched up eagerly upon seeing them, he hears voices near him.  

"Eeesh, he's going to get another one, look—"

"We should just report that stall…"

Kageyama swivels his head around to see Hinata picking through a rack of pretty children's kimonos. The quality looks unusually good for a little flea market stall, but the price is extremely competitive: 3500 yen. Kageyama can tell by the look on Hinata's face that he's going to go for it—he pulls a light green yukata off the rack and looks around for the shop owner.

As soon as his back is turned, it happens; a man glides by the rack, fiddling with it, and when he continues on, the price tag has been changed to 6000 yen. Kageyama frowns.

"Excuse me," he hears Hinata asking cheerfully, "I'd like to get this."

"A great choice!" the man said. "Children's yukata, six thousand yen."

Hinata does a double take. "Six—wait, hang on, the rack I got it from said—" He looks back at the kimonos and sees the new sign posted. "O-oh? But…"

"Still want it?" the man asked.

"Yes!" Hinata said quickly, "I just—for some reason thought it was less—"

"Well, I can give it to you for five thousand," the man said, "but I can't go much lower. These are usually all gone by the end of the day—"

Forgetting he is under a cloak of secrecy, Kageyama starts to stalk over to the stall.

"That's fine!" Hinata is saying. "Sorry for the—"

"It's not fine," Kageyama growls, looming out of the proverbial shadows over Hinata's shoulder. Hinata jumps at least a foot in the air.

"Kageyama—!"

"I'm thinking three thousand looks even better," Kageyama says, towering over the store keeper. He crosses his arms, glad that it was still too sunny out to don his jacket. His biceps bulge beneath the long sleeves of his shirt, straining the fabric. The man's eyes flit between his muscles and the nasty scowl on his face. "I saw you change the signs. And I'm not the only one."

Hinata gasps and points at the store owner. "It _was_ thirty-five hundred! I knew it!"

"I—" the man looks flummoxed. "I don't know what you're—"

Kageyama bends at the waist, leaning slowly down until he is nearly nose to nose with the man. "If you don't want me to call security, name your price," he says, accompanied by his most terrifying smile.

In the end, Hinata walks away with a complimentary kimono and they've successfully terrified the owner into cleaning up his operation. It isn't until they've walked out of earshot that Hinata spins around, glaring furiously up at Kageyama.

"You _followed_ me?"

"I wanted to look around the market," Kageyama says defensively. "Look what would have happened if I hadn't!"

"If you hadn't followed me, yes," Hinata points out. "What part of 'I don't want to see you' didn't you understand?"

"I wasn't going to even _say_ anything to you," Kageyama says. "You would've never known I was there, but they'd've screwed you over—"

"You're acting _creepy,_ Kageyama!" Hinata says. "Besides, you think I can't afford a couple hundred yen price difference?"

"I know you can," Kageyama says, frustrated now—he'd only been trying to help. "But I fucking hate seeing people take advantage of you—"

"You do?" Hinata asks, abruptly.

He looks genuinely surprised, and for a moment, Kageyama tries to decipher his expression. But it doesn't seem to be hiding or hinting at anything.

"I… yeah?" Kageyama confirms. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You just never—" Hinata shrugs, "you don't really tell me stuff." He looks fidgety for a second and, seeming to have nothing more to add, turns and walks away again. Kageyama stares after him, confused, before jogging to catch up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks. "I tell you stuff!"

"I thought you couldn't stand me for… months, when we first met," Hinata says absently, as he passes by and then doubles back to look at some ceramic bowl sets.

"I couldn't," Kageyama says, and Hinata casts him a withering glare.

"Did you really not bring a bag?" he asks, his glare apparently having revealed this fact to him.

He goes back to studying the bowls, and Kageyama deliberates on how to answer. He doesn't want this to turn into another _hotel room_ situation, or it'll start to look like he's doing this stuff on purpose, when he _isn't_. He just has bigger things to worry about than bags, and living situations, and he's struggling to keep everything in mind.

Hinata doesn't wait for Kageyama to respond anyway. "Put your stuff in mine."

"Huh?" Kageyama asks dumbly.

"You can use mine," Hinata clarifies, very slowly, like he's talking to a toddler.

It's the first, tiniest spark of something other than distance or anger he's shown. Kageyama tries to work out how to respond, and only manages, "Thanks."

"I could have afforded the kimono either way," Hinata says. "But I don't like being taken advantage of, either." He does glance a little too long in Kageyama's direction when he says it this time, and Kageyama nods too emphatically.

"I can carry the bag for you," he offers.

"I got it," Hinata says. They fall back into silence, until Hinata says out of the blue: "It was your birthday the day before yesterday."

Kageyama is stunned—not that Hinata remembers, but that he'd bring it up. "The twenty-second. Yeah."

"So you spent it on a plane, huh?"

"Y-yeah. Yes."

"Well, happy birthday," Hinata says.

"Thanks."

"Do you have any plans for—"

"I followed you because I just wanted to see, what it was like, when you were just walking around by yourself. I mean, because I've only ever seen you when I'm with you—well, I guess that's the same for anyone, but it just made me realize that I don't know what you're like when I'm not around and I just wanted to know, so I followed you. But I didn't want to bother you, I just, I just wanted to see for myself. I know it's annoying and creepy, I'm sorry."

Kageyama spits all of this out at once before he can come up with an excuse to stop himself, bowing at the end to punctuate his apology, and when he raises his head, it's to see that Hinata's mouth has fallen open.

"Where did _that_ come from?" he finally splutters.

"You said I don't tell you things." Kageyama purses his lips. "And no, I don't have any plans for my birthday."

"Shocking," Hinata sighs. Kageyama's lip quirks in response; he's never made or had plans, no, and Hinata knows that. "Well, since you're here, you might as well come along."

Kageyama double takes. "Wh—really? You're okay with that?"

Hinata shrugs. "It's your birthday, Kageyama."

They continue walking and it's Hinata who speaks first, again—so that much hasn't changed.

"Did you notice anything about what I'm like?" he asked. "When you're not around."

Kageyama contemplates this. "You don't stare at the sky as much."

Hinata shrugs like this makes sense. "I can't always expect someone else to catch me when I fall."

He says it so matter of factly that Kageyama wants to remind him that he never _had_ expected it; he'd just deserved it, because he was always trying to climb so high.

But Kageyama is also the one who let that privilege slip through his fingers, so once again, he keeps his mouth shut.

Between a cool rain that pops up later in the afternoon, forcing them to stop into a tea shop to wait it out, and all the people Hinata wants to find the perfect gift for, it's around the time for the vendors to begin packing up that they also decide to call it quits. Kageyama is satisfied with his purchases, and Hinata is nearing ecstatic. He keeps looking over his haul and making excited cooing noises; he's so undisguisedly _happy,_ not that Hinata ever felt the need to hide his happiness. It's one of those things about him that always confused Kageyama a little bit. For someone who loved volleyball above all else, just like Kageyama, it seemed like lots of other things that had no relation to volleyball whatsoever could put that big smile on Hinata's face.

Still, he'd always smiled the hardest after one of their successful quick attacks. That was something they had in common. Used to, anyway.

If this had been a couple years ago, they might have decided on some place to eat, to warm up a bit before trudging onto a train to sit sleepily side by side, before parting at their separate stops.

"Hey, Hinata," Kageyama says, and Hinata looks over at him, his eyes still alight with that certain brand of joy unique to him alone. "Do you want to get dinner?"

In the past, this would have been a no-brainer for Hinata. He probably would have cheered before even saying yes. Now his eyes shutter a little bit, and Kageyama's stomach sinks, sure he's going to get turned down.

"Okay," Hinata says. "Yeah, I'm starving."

Kageyama blinks. Saved by Hinata's ravenous appetite, it seems. He holds out his phone. "There's a curry place nearby we could stop at, does that sound okay?"

Hinata leans in closer to look. He's always run hot and in the December chill, he's warm, pressed against Kageyama's side. Eventually he looks up at Kageyama, curiously. "You just picked this one?"

"Yeah," Kageyama says. "Is that—is this one okay?"

Something seems off, but Hinata agrees that it's fine. They walk the short distance to the restaurant. It's a nice place, not too crowded at the odd dining hour, and they're seated quickly at a little booth near the back, where the lighting is dimmer. The server lights a candle on their table before leaving them their menus.

"You still don't remember this place, huh?" Hinata asks.

Kageyama looks up from his focused perusal of the menu. "Should I?"

"Do you remember in our first year in Tokyo, that practice game between our teams before the regular season started?"

Kageyama has to think long and hard before it comes to him, as he glances around the restaurant. More towards the center of the room is a set of long tables under a strange, bulbous light fixture, and it clicks together.

"This was the place some of the others convinced us to go to!" he says, pleased to have caught on. His memory of it is very fuzzy, but he remembers thinking how weird that light was while sitting under it. "They have really good pork curry…"

Hinata rests his chin on his hands and his mouth flickers into a brief smile. Kageyama grins back; he is thrilled to be smiled at, even halfway.

"Why're you even bothering to look so hard at the menu?" Hinata asks him. "We both know what you're getting."

"Just in case…" Kageyama says. "I mean, maybe there's some more good stuff."

Hinata blows the paper wrapper off his straw and nails Kageyama between the eyes with it. Kageyama ends up ordering pork curry.

They pass the time before the food gets there by detailing their gift lists. Kageyama's doesn't take very long, but Hinata's is predictably extensive. The kimono, it turns out, is for his niece; and Kageyama realizes with a jolt that he had no idea Natsu has a kid now.

"Yeah, she'll be turning three next year," Hinata says, in response to his surprise. He has picked up gifts for lots of familiar names, as well, their old friends from university and even high school. He's kept in touch with Yachi, unsurprisingly. "They'll be excited you're back."

"I told Yachi, already."

"I know."

"You…" Kageyama frowns. "She told you I was flying back."

Hinata nods. "You know how she worries and stuff."

"I didn't want to make her worry," Kageyama says. "I didn't want to… I didn't mean to make things worse by coming here."

Hinata sighs. "I don't know that you made them much worse, either."

"I didn't make them _better."_

Hinata's mouth twists. "You kept me from getting ripped off today. Thanks, by the way."

"You know what I mean…"

"I do." Hinata nods. "But I'm serious. You just… like, disappeared. Not everyone's mad at you. People missed you, whether you realize it or not."

"Did you?" Kageyama asks.

Hinata's eyebrows shoot up. "Did I miss you?" he asks, so disbelievingly it makes Kageyama cringe.

The food comes right at that moment and they both stop talking. It smells delicious, at least. Hinata blows on his ramen as Kageyama mixes up his curry and rice.

"Stupid question," he mutters at his food.

"Yeah," Hinata shakes his head. "No kidding."

The rest of the meal passes in silence. They're done quickly and when the check comes, Kageyama grabs it first.

Hinata raises both eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

"I got it," Kageyama says.

"I can cover my half," Hinata says. "Especially after the discount I got earlier." He holds out his hand for the bill.

Kageyama doesn't hand it over. "I know that, I just—I'd like to."

"Why?" Hinata asks.

"For—why _not?"_ Kageyama asks. "For not kicking me out last night, for letting me hang around today—after everything—"

Hinata reaches across the table and tries to physically tug the bill from him. "I really," he says, "do not need to be taken out on a pity date because I'm a sappy asshole—"

"On a—what?" Kageyama splutters, tugging back. "That's not what this is—"

"You _really_ don't remember coming here, do you?" Hinata asks. He lets go of the check so emphatically it's more like flinging it away from him. If he had been in any kind of good mood before, he wasn't now.

"What does that have to do with—"

"Forget it," Hinata snaps, "just forget it!" He stands, throwing his coat on haphazardly. "Pay for the stupid food, do what you want."

He leaves Kageyama sitting alone. Kageyama digs out his wallet and foots the bill, trying to figure out what just happened. What else was he supposed to be remembering? He stares hard at the table where they'd sat, years before, under that weird misshapen light.

_The sounds of the restaurant had been loud, buzzing in Kageyama's ear. Everything had been too much, too overstimulating, team members from both their schools surrounding them both. Eating together almost like one team. Hinata still sat next to Kageyama on his side of the table, instead of with his teammates. If Kageyama stared up at the light and didn't look around, it was almost like he was still at Karasuno, still on the same team, still one singular force to be reckoned with._

_Hinata had tapped the top of his hand, a reassuring pat._

_"You guys'll get us next time," he said, and Kageyama didn't have to look at him to know how sly his grin was._

_"We will," Kageyama said. They'd played well, but the coordination between the first years on his team wasn't quite there yet. They'd lost._

_"Playing against each other again is weird," Hinata said. "But it felt good. Not just beating you!" he rushes to say hurriedly when Kageyama turned to glare at him._

_But he knew what Hinata had meant. "We'll get even stronger," he agreed. "And when we play together again…"_

_Hinata held out a fist. Kageyama bumped it._

_"We'll win."_

Kageyama blinks, as staring at that same light in the present starts to sear his eyes.

He nearly trips in his rush to get out of the booth. The wait staff call out their goodbyes, shocked, as he speeds by, and he barely acknowledges them. He pushes out the doors and stares first one way, then the other, down the street. The crowds have thinned, luckily.

"Hinata!"

He isn't sure if Hinata doesn't hear him, or if he's just pretending not to—he races after him.

"Hinata, wait!"

He runs in front of Hinata, skidding to a stop in his path. Hinata tries to shoulder roughly past him, and Kageyama grabs him by the arms. Hinata yanks away, angrily.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I get it."

"Do you?!" Hinata asks.

"I do," Kageyama says, reaching out to him again. "I remembered what I said. I'm sorry, Hinata."

Tentatively, he raises one of Hinata's hands, and closes his own around it, curling Hinata's fingers into a fist. He bumps it with a fist of his own, to prove he's telling the truth, and apologizes again for good measure, softly. Hinata doesn't try to pull away from him. Kageyama lets go, hesitantly.

"Following me around, defending me all—menacingly, taking me out to dinner." Hinata rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Christmas Eve, you pull this shit, are you serious? It's like you're my boy—" He doesn't let himself finish, cutting off in frustration.

Kageyama shuts his eyes in horror. It is absolutely Christmas Eve; the most romantic night of the year, and he just barreled through it like a brick through a glass window. He'd completely forgotten.

"I know you're completely oblivious about this stuff," Hinata goes on, "but… I mean, even you had to notice the way people in there were looking at us. They must've thought I was breaking up with you."

"I didn't… I wasn't thinking," Kageyama says repentantly.

"Yeah, you suck at that," Hinata says. "Not just at telling me how you feel. You never think about how _I'm_ feeling, either."

"I think about how you feel—"

"You! Don't!" Hinata says, his voice rising. "You want me to show you how wrong you are?" He shoves Kageyama's shoulder. "I. Hate. You."

Kageyama stumbles backwards; from the shove, from the words. "I—I _know—_ "

Hinata steps forward, into his space, and pushes him again—harder, this time. _"That's_ how you tell someone what you're feeling. _You_ just ask _stupid_ questions instead, because you don't care about how I feel—"

"All I've been trying to do since I got back is figure out how to fix things—"

"I don't want you to _fix_ anything, you jackass—" Hinata shouts. He stomps forward and rams his palms into Kageyama's chest. "I want you to understand what you _did!"_

"I'm _trying—_ " Kageyama says, alarmed as Hinata starts to come after him again. He grabs Hinata's arms, but instead of trying to wrench away or shove him again, Hinata just lets his hands drop. His shoulders sag, his chin falls nearly to his chest.

_"I missed you."_

He breathes it out so quietly Kageyama almost doesn't catch it. It takes him a moment to realize what was said, and then he doesn't say a word, doesn't ask for Hinata to repeat himself. He just— _tries—_ to listen.

Hinata takes a shuddering breath. "I _never_ wanted to see you again. You didn't try to call me, or message me, and I told myself that was for the best. And now—y-you just _show up?"_ He shakes his head hopelessly. "Like you think that makes everything fine—and I can't—I _still—_ "

Hinata swallows the rest of his words. He's not resisting anything anymore; it would be easy, Kageyama thinks, to pull him closer into the front of his jacket. To wrap him up tightly inside the circle of his arms. But Kageyama thinks maybe he shouldn't be allowed to do that just yet—even if Hinata let him, he wouldn't feel like he's earned it. Instead, he squeezes his hands around Hinata's wrists, just a little tighter.

"I really… didn't think it would be fine," he says. "I thought about leaving before I even knocked on your door."

"You _were_ trying to leave."

"Yeah. Because… I _know_ I might not ever be able to fix it." Kageyama leans back a little to try and see Hinata's face. "But I came back because I want to _try."_

Hinata doesn't let him look. He takes a tiny step forward, head hanging lower, speaking toward the pavement. "Last night you said you came back to convince me to stay with the team."

"Maybe I have a lot of reasons," Kageyama says. He is still figuring them out.

"Gonna keep making me guess them?" Hinata grumbles.

"I'll tell you as I think of them," Kageyama says. "Because I tell you things."

Hinata _headbutts_ him, right in the chest. It's not as hard as it  _could_ have been, Kageyama knows from experience, but he still doubles over with an _oof_.

"You bastard," Hinata says simply. "Let's go, we're going to miss the train."

He finally pulls away from Kageyama and trudges off. Rubbing at his chest, Kageyama tags along behind him without another word. Hinata hates him, but he also expects Kageyama to follow him.

That seems like it might be a start. Kageyama isn't picky, at this point. He'll take what he can get.

*

It was true that he didn't always tell Hinata things. And he didn't always listen, either.

Their first year, they'd had that fight. Even for two boys who didn't always get along in the first place, it had been bad. Kageyama had not been popular before, but he'd also never been in any direct conflicts with anyone. His team had ignored him, been confused by him, chafed because of him, and eventually abandoned him. They had never tried to deal with him directly.

But Hinata had been different. Hinata didn't just want to confront him, at every turn; he wanted to force Kageyama to deal with _him_ at every available opportunity. He wanted Kageyama to acknowledge him. And even though Hinata had a seemingly limitless capacity for joy, and friendship, and laughter, his emotions ran deep. Especially where Kageyama was concerned, it became clearer and clearer. Hinata got angry.

The first _real_ fight Kageyama had ever gotten in, the kind books and movies had, with screaming and punches thrown, had been with Hinata.

Hinata was tiny, but he could _brawl._ He'd charged Kageyama, nearly knocked him off his feet, and Kageyama hadn't even thought of going easy on him just because his flailing limbs were so much skinnier and he was a head shorter and his face, even in his fury, was round and soft. Hinata had wanted a fight, and he'd get one, because Kageyama always gave him what he wanted. Or so he thought.

At that moment, in the gym, exhausted from their failed attempts at the new toss Hinata wanted to try, and that they couldn't possibly perfect in one night, Kageyama had heard every word Hinata had shouted at him. But he hadn't listened to them.

 _I'll never get better like this_ had sounded too much like _I don't want to rely on you anymore._ And as angry as he'd been, as fresh as his exit from middle school had been in his mind, _I want the strength to fight on my own_ sounded like the empty bounce of a ball falling onto a silent court.

No matter what Kageyama shouted at him, how much he tried to impress upon Hinata that their quick was the best weapon they had, Hinata hadn't backed down. Not even when Kageyama had threatened to stop tossing to him again—a cheap shot, even he'd known it at the time. Instead, Hinata had grabbed him around the waist and refused to let go; Kageyama couldn't dislodge him, Yachi's pleading didn't deter him. It took the combined effort of Tanaka dragging him away and Kageyama shoving him to get him off.

And even then Kageyama hadn't listened.

It wasn't that Hinata didn't need, or even didn't want, to rely on him. All Hinata wanted was for Kageyama to trust him, the way he trusted Kageyama.

Kageyama's biggest fear had been being alone, of being let go. Since they'd met, Hinata had always held onto Kageyama as tight as he could.

After that fight in Karasuno, Kageyama had stewed, and he'd practiced, and he'd worked hard to get better; subconsciously, trying to be what Hinata needed. And Hinata had done the same. But Hinata had reached out first; that had been on him, not just because he understood the things that were too difficult for Kageyama, but because he always seemed to know when Kageyama was ready to forgive and be forgiven, even if they never said it outright. When Kageyama never knew quite what to say or how to approach, to bridge that last lingering space between them after they fought, Hinata was there. And eventually, Kageyama had understood that he would never lose Hinata.

Until he let him go.

Hinata had always told Kageyama exactly what he meant. Not that Kageyama tried to hide his feelings—he had just never been an effusive person in the first place, his praise and compliments were hard-earned, and everyone knew that. But with Hinata, it was especially so, despite the fact that he was closer to Hinata than he'd ever been to anyone else. It started off because of their rivalry; they teased each other more often than they had anything nice to say.

But Hinata's attempts to prove himself were in no small part a result of his drive to impress Kageyama. And somehow, Kageyama had started to feel that if he wore his heart on his sleeve, that Hinata would get complacent. Stop seeking his approval—and his attention. He was worried that Hinata might stop seeing him as a reason to keep rushing forward, if he knew that even Kageyama sometimes had the stray thought: _perfect._

Kageyama was not in the habit of self-analyzing, and the fact that this feeling was beginning to tie less and less into volleyball games and plays and technique as the years went on, and more into simply  _Hinata,_ was not something he looked at too deeply.

Years later, when Hinata had told him he was in love, and Kageyama hadn't known what to call his own feelings, he'd panicked. What happened to both of them, if they both committed to something so big, so… final? What would become of _I'll be going on ahead,_ when he didn't even want to leave Hinata's side?

He'd had to reach the wrong conclusion first, in order to come to the right one.

But while he'd been figuring out his own feelings, he hadn't been listening to Hinata's.

He hadn't spoken to Hinata before leaving for Germany. He hadn't fully understood what had happened, and his anger had been misplaced at Hinata for making it so difficult. Months had gone by and he'd gone from mad, to confused, to ashamed, but there was nothing to work towards, no deficit to make up. He'd wanted to talk to Hinata, but he didn't know how or where to begin.

And for the first time, Hinata hadn't tried to pull him back. Hinata hadn't reached out.

After four years, Kageyama finally understood. He couldn't put that responsibility on Hinata now. It had to be different, this time.

*

Christmas morning dawns sunny and bright. For the past four years in Germany, Kageyama had gotten fairly used to the amount of fanfare and celebration the holiday yielded overseas. But now, back in Japan, the main event of Christmas Eve was over. Christmas day passed quietly for most, with preparations for the new year beginning to loom in earnest.

The rest of the night before had gone strangely, after the blow up outside the restaurant. Kageyama and Hinata had ridden the train silently back to Hinata's place together. But there was less awkwardness when they arrived back, with Hinata holding the door open for Kageyama as he entered the house again.

"Tomorrow, I'll, um…" Kageyama said, as he toed off his shoes, "I'll get out of here, find a hotel…"

"Okay," Hinata said.

"Thanks for letting me crash here…"

Hinata hadn't responded directly, but he did shake his head as he headed for the bathroom. "Bakageyama…"

Now Kageyama hears him up and about. He checks the time on his phone. It's only a little past seven, but he tosses back the covers anyway. Hinata is in the kitchen hovering over the stove. He is trying to make an omelette, and Kageyama wonders if his success rate is better now after four years. Hinata could never for the life of him figure out how to flip an egg, and the resulting mess was usually inedible. Whenever Kageyama stayed over at his place, both in high school, and then in college, he always ended up having to do it.

"Morning," he says. "I can cook that, if you want."

"I'm better at it now," Hinata says, right before he launches the still runny egg haphazardly into the air. Half of it lands outside the pan.

A couple years ago, Kageyama would have mocked him instantly and resoundingly for his failing. Now he opens his mouth, takes a breath, and then thinks better of it, swallowing his still automatic response to tease.

Hinata holds up a finger. "One word."

Kageyama gestures helplessly. "I didn't!"

"You thought about it."

"I can't control all my _thoughts,_ Hinata—"

"So you admit it!" Hinata says, whipping around, spatula held out like a sword. Slowly, he advances on Kageyama, who raises both hands in surrender. When he's near enough to smack Kageyama, he flips the spatula over, offering Kageyama the handle. "Eggs."

"On it," Kageyama says, wondering whether he can salvage the damage, or whether he needs to start anew. As he deliberates, he feels eyes on him. He looks over just in time to catch Hinata's appraising stare sweeping over him, before the other man turns away. Kageyama quickly returns to surveying the frying pan, struggling to keep the smile off his face.

Maybe he can save it.

Eggs are ready soon, and Hinata takes care of rice, coffee, natto; it's a respectable breakfast by the time they sit down to it, and it's surprisingly comfortable, on top of that. The sun streams into the kitchen, they both toodle around intermittently on their phones and shovel food into their mouth; it's quieter than it once would have been, but it's not as bad as it _could_ be.

"I'll be out most of today," Hinata says as they're finishing up. "I don't know if you're planning on going out, so…"

"I'll take my stuff," Kageyama says. "I was going to book a room somewhere anyway."

"Oh," Hinata says. "Yeah. Right."

They _did_ talk about this last night… Kageyama tips his bowl of miso up to drink it. When he lowers it, Hinata is staring out the window.

"What are you… what are your plans for today?" Kageyama asks him. "If you don't mind my asking."

Hinata waves his hand. "We have practice in the afternoon. Our last before the new year."

A pang of longing lodges inside Kageyama's chest, and he hopes it isn't showing on his face—but it's hard not to imagine things being different, eating breakfast together before getting ready to go for practice as a team. It's not something he wants to remind Hinata of by looking _sad._ He settles for nodding.

Hinata gathers his own dishes and goes to wash them. Kageyama watches him from behind—the lines of his shoulders are drawn in and more tellingly, he's not humming. Common sense dictates he's unhappy about something, but a few minutes ago everything was fine, Kageyama is almost positive.

"I can take care of the dishes," Kageyama offers.

"I got it," Hinata says.

Kageyama frowns. "How was the omelette?"

"Good."

_Hmm._

Kageyama sits back in his chair, squinting at Hinata's back. A thought has occurred to him, and he fears voicing it aloud could be disastrous. But… Hinata wanted him to say what he was thinking…

"Do you think it'd be okay if I came with you?" Kageyama asks. The water keeps running, but Hinata's hands still in the sink. "To practice."

"I don't see why not," Hinata says. "You're basically back on the team."

Kageyama sits up straighter. Not disastrous—okay, _okay._ "And, um… are _you_ okay with it… though…?"

Hinata shuts off the water. He turns around, leaning against the sink where he can survey Kageyama. "I think you should come."

"Great," Kageyama says. "Cool. I'll be there—I mean, I'll come with you, I'll—" He gives a resolute peace sign. "I'll be in your care."

Hinata stares at him like he's grown an extra head. Slowly, he nods. "Okay, then. I'm going to shower, we should leave in an hour."

As soon as he's out of the room, Kageyama clenches his fist silently and triumphantly, before literally patting himself on the back.

"Do you need a towel?"

He jumps, hand still reached around over his shoulder, spinning to face Hinata who has poked his head back into the room.

"What are you doing?" Hinata asks him.

"I was—there was an itch," Kageyama says.

"An itch."

"Yeah."

Hinata continues to look very skeptical. Kageyama tries a smile, which seems mainly unsuccessful.

"We're probably down a few people, what with the holidays and all," Hinata says, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"Huh?"

"That's why it'd be good for you to join today," he explains. "We'll be short as it is."

"Ah…" Kageyama says. "A-also, maybe it'll be nice. To play toge—"

"Do you need a towel?" Hinata asks him again.

"What—oh." Kageyama shakes his head. "I brought my own."

Hinata looks very unimpressed. _"Amazing_ job planning ahead."

*

When the team sees who Hinata has brought along that day, there's an understandable amount of noise and excitement. Kageyama doesn't know most of them personally, but of course he knows of them, and vice versa. Truth be told, he's unreasonably excited himself, to be coming back to play on this team. He likes Germany a lot, more than he thought he would—not just playing there, but the people and places, too. But it's a different feeling entirely, being on a team with people who've grown up like him, share so many of the same experiences, speak his language.

They start off with stretching and drills. Everyone is very curious about him, and Hinata hovers around him, introducing him to people. It catches Kageyama off guard when Hinata starts to talk him up, acknowledging their past history and agreeing happily with assessments of Kageyama's prodigious skill. But then, it's not really so surprising. Hinata isn't cruel or petty. He's still the first person to ever outright shout in Kageyama's face about how amazing his tosses were.

"I learned a lot from Hinata when we were in school together," Kageyama says to Ogawara, one of the country's top wing spikers. "Honestly, my tosses wouldn't be nearly as good as they are now without him."

"Oh, yeah?" Ogawara says, clapping Hinata on the back. "Hey, hear that, Hinata? Maybe you should reconsider leaving…" He says it jokingly—players are traded or find offers elsewhere or come back onto the team all the time, just look at Kageyama.

But as Ogawara ambles off and Kageyama glances at Hinata, it's to see he's frozen mid-stretch, frowning.

"They wouldn't?" Hinata asks.

"Wouldn't what?"

"Your tosses wouldn't be as good without having met me."

Kageyama shrugs. "I'd been about to give up on that quick, after Kitagawa Daiichi. I probably wouldn't have tried it again for years if I hadn't met you when I did."

Hinata just blinks at him for several solid seconds, his lips parted as though he wants to speak—but instead he takes a quick breath before running off, to practice his jump serve.

After that, they divide into two teams to start practice matches. Hinata had been right; there are just enough players for full teams, so Kageyama gets to fill in. They play on opposite sides in the first match, and it occurs to Kageyama that he has, without realizing it, been avoiding watching Japan's official matches if he could manage it.

The sight of Hinata staring at him from across the net sends a thrill shivering down his spine. It's been a really long time since they even stood on the same court, but they'd played each other often enough while at university. Hinata gets this look in his eyes, he's always had that _look,_ even in middle school, but it's changed—back then it was just raw determination, unwavering and wild. It kept evolving, through high school, when Kageyama never had it turned on him. In college, it'd been a shock, to see those eyes watching him, appraising him, evaluating him. Still raw, but no longer baselessly confident.

Hinata Shouyou has learned how to fuck the enemy team up before they even knew what hit them, and he isn't interested in showing mercy.

The thing about Hinata that never stops being amazing is how fast he grows when nobody's watching. In college, the effect hadn't been as strong for Kageyama, given he'd still seen Hinata fairly often. Now, though…

Even after all these years, Kageyama is still strongly reminded of Sawamura Daichi when he watches the way Hinata receives, steady and reassured more often than flashy (though he's still prone to a reckless save every now and again). His height is not a mitigating factor with his jumps, and he has no problem with blockouts. He's actually confident in blocking now, too—no more terrified grimacing every he has to jump to match a spiker. Just laser focus as he puts up wall after wall.

They play best of three, and—just like their first practice game in university—Hinata's team comes out on top in the third set.

There's a lot of good-natured ribbing, and Kageyama tries to offer himself up as a scapegoat (he has the least amount of team synergy, his tosses were off), only to be roundly silenced. Overall, it was a good run. They switch up the teams.

And now Hinata is on Kageyama's team, once more on the same side of the net. Their conversation from the first night Kageyama turned up at Hinata's house sneaks its way into Kageyama's head: _Do you really think I don't want to play together again?_

At the time, Kageyama had been absolutely sure that that was the case. That Hinata was so angry with him that he couldn't stand to be on the same team. Now he sees how stupid that was.

It's not that Hinata doesn't want to be on the same team as him; Hinata doesn't _need_ to be on the same team as him. Hinata is a force to be reckoned with, Hinata is skilled and strong and can match Kageyama play for play. It doesn't matter if they're together or apart; they can't be held back, kept down.

That look in Hinata's eyes across the court meant he'd always known that. He wasn't worried about going on ahead or getting left behind, when he'd told Kageyama how he felt.

It was just like he said. He'd loved Kageyama. And he'd missed him.

"Oy," Kageyama says, during the brief water break. Hinata is seated at the edge of the bench so Kageyama joins him, sitting to watch as some of the other players take the court, tossing the ball around already. He can see Hinata looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "No matter how fast you go, or how high you jump, I… will get the ball to you."

Hinata caps his water bottle and stands, stretching his arms over his head. He's dripping sweat already and Kageyama thinks, with more than a little admiration, how he really can't be called "small" anymore, despite his height. He's solid muscle, and the creep of his shirt hem up over his stomach proves it. So does the way he is able to easily haul Kageyama off the bench when he extends his hand, and Kageyama takes it.

Hinata doesn't let go once Kageyama is standing, dragging him in a bit closer to look up at him with an expression that is fiercely determined. His hand is burning hot in Kageyama's grasp.

"You better," Hinata tells him. They both know full well Kageyama has never backed down from a challenge.

The next match is buzzing with tension. The first two sets each go well over twenty-five points; after years of doing this, Kageyama can pick up each player's style well enough after just a few tosses, and he's always adapted quickly on the fly. But more than that, now he's on _Hinata's_ team, and they weren't called invincible for nothing.

It comes closest to the feeling, Kageyama thinks, of taking a flight of stairs too fast and missing a step. There's no telling if it will result in an actual tumble, or if a recovery might still be made. There's only the heart pounding feeling of freefall.

Kageyama sees it: a blur across the court, and it's reflex more than anything that makes him toss—he knows he must so he _does._ Hinata is already suspended, flawless form. The lines of his body are smooth, flowing; feet kicked back, arm outstretched to the sky that he could reach with wings no one can see—but that Kageyama knows have always been there, sprouted from his shoulder blades where his back curves in a perfect arc to meet them.

For the past several years, Kageyama has been living in freefall.

As he watches Hinata fly, his feet touch the ground again.

He tosses and Hinata is there, ball slamming off his palm onto the opposite side of the court to take them into the third set.

But before they can rotate, the other team's setter asks, "Were… Hinata-kun, were your eyes closed just now? For that last spike?"

Kageyama snaps his head to look at Hinata. Hinata is already watching him.

"I wanted to see if he could still do it," he says with an easy shrug, but his eyes are burning. "I guess it's okay if you guys want to let him onto the team."

They get bombarded with so many questions after that, the coach has to call them to order.

In the final set, Kageyama gets surprised. The opposing server targets him, forcing him to receive the ball on the first touch. It flies wide, and he swears, but a voice jolts him to attention.

"Kageyama!" Hinata shouts, as he plants himself, reaches up, eyes locked on the ball as it descends. Kageyama knows that stance; he knows without ever having seen Hinata use it before what he's about to do. Hinata has seen Kageyama's monstrous straight countless times, and Kageyama jumps—right as Hinata tosses to him. The path is right on target and he connects, with a spike that blows clear past the wall of blockers.

In the end, they lose the third set, but barely, and not for lack of trying. It doesn't feel so bad, and it just means both sides will be strongest together. There are lots of congratulations, but Kageyama steps up to Hinata before either of them can get lost amongst the rest of the team.

"That toss back there…" Kageyama says, and Hinata crosses his arms, expectantly defiant. "It was kind of incredible."

Hinata's arms drop to his sides—and then he breaks into a smile. A full, real smile, beaming right at Kageyama.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah, seriously."

Hinata laughs, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I practiced it. A lot."

It's a far cry from the little boy who went running to all his senpai for approval, the boy who hovered around Kageyama to see if he'd noticed every half-successful block or receive. But there's no mistaking the note of pride in his voice. Kageyama resists the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair.

"Did you swear in _German_ when you had to take that receive?" Hinata fires off next, and Kageyama blinks. Had he?

"Uhhh…"

"That's so cool!" Hinata's voice is edging towards squawk-y; a true sign that he is feeling at ease. "You have to teach me."

His whole face is shiny and hopeful, and Kageyama, even if he'd wanted to, couldn't say no. "Alright. Later." Hurriedly, he adds, "If you really want me to."

Hinata thinks about it, then nods, then smiles at his feet. "Yeah. Later sounds good."

It occurs to Kageyama on the bus ride back to Hinata's place that he failed to make any progress in finding an alternate place to stay, somewhere he won't be in Hinata's way all the time, a constant reminder. He doesn't want to stay too far away, though… will that be too weird (creepy, as Hinata might say), if he chooses to stay somewhere close to where Hinata lives? Not that he'd hang around outside the door all day, but it doesn't seem entirely out of the question anymore that Hinata might agree to dinner again. Kageyama only has a few days left to convince him he should stay, as well as let Kageyama back into his life, in whatever capacity Hinata will have him.

"…can't help wondering what happened?"

Hinata is talking; Kageyama quickly realizes he's the one being spoken to and turns away from the lights rushing by outside the window to stare at him attentively.

"Sorry, I—what?" Kageyama shakes his head. "I was listening, it's just that you weren't talking earlier and—"

"It's okay!" Hinata says. "You're allowed to space out." His smile is rueful, no longer unguarded, and Kageyama scrambles to smooth things over.

"I wasn't—not because I don't care—"

"I know," Hinata says. "I wasn't entirely fair, with what I said before."

Kageyama swallows. If Hinata wants to go easier on him, he doesn't want to object. Only… "You don't have to apologize."

"I wasn't apologizing," Hinata says. "You brought it on yourself."

Kageyama twists in his seat to face him. "Well, then why are you saying you weren't fair?"

"I think… sometimes, when I'm feeling the most… stuff," Hinata says, slowly, like he's trying to understand himself, "it's hard for you? You don't always get all of it."

Kageyama bites his lip. It's not just Hinata—it's always been hard for him, with everyone.

"Do you remember when you got invited to the All Japan camp, in high school?" Hinata asks.

"Yeah, of course," Kageyama says. That came out of nowhere. "Why?"

"Do you remember what you said to me?"

Kageyama recalls it instantly—all the barely contained anger and frustration in Hinata's face, as Kageyama had told him: _Looks like I'll be going on ahead._ At the time, he'd just thought it natural. He was still stronger, and Hinata was still growing. It wouldn't _end_ for Hinata there, he knew—Hinata just had to work harder.

 _Ah._ Kageyama looks down at his hands. "Yeah."

"I wanted to hit you," Hinata says, and Kageyama privately thinks he probably should have. "But… I mean, it wasn't a surprise that you were going, really. You deserved it. It sucked that I didn't get into the other camp, but that had nothing to do with you. And I figured things out."

"You always do," Kageyama says. Hinata bites his lip at the compliment. He wants to smile, Kageyama can tell, but he also doesn't want to let on that he's happy.

"When you got back and asked me what I'd been doing, I realized… how much had changed," Hinata tells him. "When you asked me that in middle school, you thought I'd just been wasting time, but when you asked me again after the camp, I could tell—you expected me to make the time worthwhile."

Kageyama had spent that entire week at the training camp thinking about the team, about Hinata, about Hinata's jump, about his toss, about how he himself could be better. It wasn't just that he'd expected the same of Hinata; he'd just never doubted.

Kageyama had doubted him once, before he really knew Hinata. He'd thought he'd never make that same mistake again.

"I'm sorry," he says, voice small. He can't make it any bigger when he feels so small himself. What had he been  _thinking?_

Hinata stares at him, and the street lights cross over his face in intervals; light, then dark, then light again. Each time they come back to illuminate him, Kageyama can see himself reflected in Hinata's eyes—he can see all the ways he hurt him.

"I worked…" Hinata says, "so _hard._ To make sure you'd never underestimate me again."

"I know," Kageyama whispers.

"What happened?" Hinata asks. "Why did you think I'd hold you back?"

"It wasn't—because of what you told me," Kageyama says, manages to choke out the words, so little so late.

"It was, though," Hinata says.

Kageyama wants to ask him more than anything: _Do you still?_ Does Hinata still love him after everything? But it's the most unfair answer he could possibly demand, no matter which way it swings.

And telling Hinata how he feels now also doesn't do either of them any good. It doesn't change the fact that he blamed Hinata because he was afraid. It doesn't erase how he took Hinata's feelings for granted, and tossed them away when he couldn't understand.

Hinata is right. He can't just fix what he did. He has to make up for breaking it in the first place.

"I know I can't  _make_ you believe anything I say now," Kageyama says, "but I just—I underestimated _myself._ Not you. Never you, Hinata."

Hinata blinks a bit too hard and turns away from the window, and Kageyama. "It's a good thing you're a terrible liar."

"I'm _not—"_

Hinata swipes his nose quickly on his sleeve and then looks back at Kageyama, glaring. "You _just_ said—" He frowns mightily and deepens his voice as much as it will go, " _'I can't make you believe anything',_ did you just immediately forget, or—"

"I just—I was—" Kageyama presses his lips shut and glares back. Not being allowed to get angry with Hinata is becoming _annoying._

"I'm _saying_ I believe you," Hinata tells him. "I can always tell when you're lying. Idiot."

"Dumbass," Kageyama fires back, without meaning to. Hinata looks taken aback, and Kageyama curses his muscle memory.

Then Hinata asks him, "How long are you in Tokyo?"

Wondering if Hinata is asking so he can now avoid him completely, Kageyama replies, "I'm here 'til the fourth."

Hinata nods. "Just stay with me."

For a second, Kageyama is sure he's misunderstood. "Stay…"

"At my—my house," Hinata says quickly. "I know you haven't even looked for a hotel yet."

"Um…" Kageyama says guiltily, "I meant to, today…"

"Whatever," Hinata says. "It's not a big deal."

Kageyama might be a terrible liar, but Hinata isn't that much better. It's a big deal; but Kageyama doesn't want to let on that he knows that. He nods.

"Thanks," he says.

"Not for _free,_ though," Hinata says. "You promised to teach me German."

"Right," Kageyama says.

It takes all of two seconds for Hinata to hold up his hands expectantly. "I'm _waiting!"_

"What, now?" Kageyama asks.

"Yes, now!"

Kageyama looks at him blankly. "Fine. First lesson: _Ich bin ne Arschgeige."_

"What's that mean?" Hinata asks excitedly.

"That's how you say hello."

"So cool! Okay— _Ich… bin…_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this into two parts! It was too ginormous T_T 
> 
> I absolutely _can not_ thank my wonderful [Ellie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey) enough for being my taskmaster on this fic. I had... A LOT OF DOUBTS, a lot of stress, and a lot of editing that needed to be done to make this be what I wanted it to be, and she whipped both the story and myself into shape. Thank you so much, dear friend <3 for these past few years, and all the rest to come.
> 
> Thank you also to RC and Val, for not allowing my creative breakdowns throughout the writing of this to let me give up on it entirely; QUINN for helping me out with such an eloquent way to say "hello" in German (and other things); and Kurasuchi, for letting me pick their brain about manga translations!!! You guys are all amazing ;; I don't deserve you!!! <3


	2. Chapter 2

Before Hinata, Kageyama hadn't understood a lot of things about friendship.

High school had not been a peak time of self-discovery for him outside of improving his tosses and learning how to talk to people in a way that was, as Sugawara had once put it, "Azumane-friendly". And while everyone on Karasuno had helped him in some form or another, it had been Hinata who had borne the brunt of being Kageyama's friend.

Hinata was Kageyama's direct polar opposite; and from that, he'd learned that friends didn't always share everything in common. Yachi liked art and pop music, and Ennoshita liked movies that were absolutely incomprehensible, and absolutely nobody would ever love volleyball as much as Kageyama loved it (except for… well, Hinata). But they were all still his friends.

It was okay, to get mad at his friends sometimes. It was because of Hinata that he learned that even though sometimes he got frustrated with people, even though sometimes he wanted to punch Tsukishima right in his smirking face, even though he was afraid his senpai wouldn't accept his apology after he shouted at them—it didn't make them not his friends.

And friends, real friends, wouldn't abandon him. Even after middle school he'd had trouble. He knew he'd been wrong, but he didn't understand _why._ It had been Hinata who'd shown him he didn't always have to be right. He just had to be himself, and he had started to learn how his behavior affected others, by hearing what they had to say.

Hinata had been the first to understand and challenge and then share his dream. Hinata had started off as a rival, and become his best friend soon after. And for most of high school, they'd remained that way—the closest friends, and nothing more.

University had been the start of change; or maybe, it had just made things clearer.

Kageyama had registered Hinata's absence like being thrown into the deep end of a very cold swimming pool. They at least both got offers from Tokyo schools, so they wouldn't be separated for long periods of time, but it had still been a shock after spending three years in almost constant proximity.

The first month of school was hectic for them both, Kageyama remembers; schedules hadn't settled and university was like a whirlwind sweeping him off his feet. Though attendance was much less demanding than in high school, classes at different times of the day had been a challenge for him; and they both had volleyball practice every day, which neither of them would have missed in a million years.

Practice threw Kageyama off more than it stabilized him, at first. It wasn't just that Karasuno was no longer at his back; it was specifically Hinata's absence that stuck out to him. At the higher level of play university had to offer, his so-called "King's Toss" wasn't the impossibility it had once been to sync with the spikers, especially those with faster reflexes. But there was something missing even when his sets connected; a certainty, the electricity that arced from his fingertips, coursing through the air along the path of the ball, sparking to life every time Hinata had made contact.

It was an energy that had always been there, since the first time Hinata had spiked that miracle toss with his eyes shut tight, because he'd had no choice but to trust. Even when Kageyama wasn't tossing directly to him, Hinata, always on the same court somewhere, was a constant hum at the back of his mind. There was always the possibility of the next toss, or the next—he would always come back to Hinata.

College must just be like that, Kageyama told himself, it was just weird to be away from the first best friend you'd ever had. And then, Hinata had come to stay with him during Golden Week, about a month after school had started.

There was no need to meet him at the station, Hinata had told him. And so instead, Kageyama had opened the door to his apartment to be greeted by sixty kilograms of excitable former schoolmate (plus overnight bag) leaping directly onto him with the kind of height only Hinata Shouyou could achieve. Kageyama had no choice but to catch him.

"Hinata, what the _hell—_ "

"Kageyama!" Hinata flat out _shouted_ in his face. "Uwahhh, you look less grumpy than I expected!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Kageyama demanded.

But Hinata had just linked his arms comfortably around Kageyama's neck and grinned at him. "It's just been a long time since we saw each other."

It had only fallen into place then; the absent sparks, the lingering uncertainty, the way he just couldn't seem to settle. He missed Hinata—really, extremely missed him, so much that just a few weeks had been enough to make him ache. He didn't have that for any of his other friends he hadn't seen; and he couldn't remember feeling it when their seniors had graduated, either. It was just Hinata.

He began to wonder why.

Their first official match their schools played against each other didn't go as either of them had expected. Both their schools were highly competitive, and the talent pool was deep. Kageyama subbed in for the first half of the second set and a little bit of the third, but Hinata had only gotten to play for one rotation in the second set. They hadn't even been on the court at the same time. Kageyama's team had won.

He'd waited outside the locker room for Hinata, but when virtually the entire team had exited and Hinata still hadn't, Kageyama went in after him. Which, it turned out, was why Hinata hadn't come out in the first place.

"Are you even allowed back here?" Hinata asked when he saw him. He seemed to be trying not to let Kageyama catch a good glimpse of his face, wiping it hastily with the bottom of his shirt. "I don't want to talk about this with you, you won't get it."

"I won't get it?" Kageyama repeated, disbelieving. "I didn't get to play a full game, either."

Hinata didn't answer him, instead turning away to begin yanking his belongings out of his locker.

"Don't just ignore me!"

"I said," Hinata ground out, "that I don't want to talk about this right now—"

Kageyama strode forward, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around, shoving him back against the lockers. Hinata glared up at him, furious.

"You said _'with me',"_ Kageyama said. He leaned in even closer, shadow falling over Hinata. "Why the hell not?"  

"You played _more,"_ Hinata spit. "But that doesn't matter to you—"

"Why should it?" Kageyama asks. "Neither of us played _enough."_

It _had_ mattered to him, then. Not just that he didn't get what he wanted; he knew Hinata would kill, right at this moment, to get as much playtime as he had. But if that had been the case, it wouldn't have changed anything. Hinata would still feel just as frustrated, just like Kageyama was still frustrated—it wasn't enough. Kageyama wanted them both to have more.

Hinata's anger, the parts of it that were directed at Kageyama, seeped away. He sagged back against the locker. "Not nearly enough."

"Next time," Kageyama said. He loosened his grip on Hinata's shoulder, ready to apologize for his unexpected roughness, but Hinata reached up, covering his hand with his own, stopping him from pulling away.

It occurred to Kageyama then how close they were to each other, their noses nearly touching. How Hinata didn't mind, and how that made Kageyama not want to move away, either. If he didn't have to.

"Next time," Hinata echoed.

From that point forward, Kageyama had been forced to confront the fact that he didn't just miss Hinata; he wanted to be close to him. As he was coming to terms with thoughts like _how close_ and _more than friends,_ Hinata had been reaching the same conclusions.

Hinata had always been extremely tactile, but his tendency to touch Kageyama at every available opportunity seemed to skyrocket somewhere in their second year at university and never came back down. Kageyama's most standout memory of this might be Hinata's wandering hands every time they went out drinking with friends; the alcohol didn't embolden him, it just gave him an excuse, and he only got more audacious, likely because Kageyama never discouraged him. He'd wedge himself up against Kageyama and brush his hair out of his eyes, sneak warm fingers under his shirt sleeves, put his hand on Kageyama's leg, his thigh, a couple memorable times between his knees, when no one else was really paying attention.

It was hard to make sense of the weightless feeling Hinata smiling at him suddenly gave him—or perhaps not so suddenly. Had he always felt it, and just not noticed? The warmth in the pit of his stomach, the tightness in his chest (and sometimes other places). Was it really new?

For his part, Kageyama hadn't quite known how to reciprocate. It was easiest for him to just let things happen, if he liked them.

The day they'd both received their offers from the men's national volleyball team had been a weekend in their last year; Kageyama had been on the evening train at the time and had to suffer through the enforced etiquette of informing the national team official that he would have to call him back when he reached his destination, which happened to be visiting Hinata.

By the time he was knocking on the door of Hinata's apartment, sky dark overhead, he'd been told the news—and the door had opened, and Hinata had stood there, and the instant their eyes met, they'd both known.

"You too?" Kageyama demanded. Without waiting, Hinata had dragged Kageyama through the door and flung his arms around him.

"We made it," he said, and, oh, he was already crying. "We did it."

They spent half the night watching pro games online, until both of them could hardly keep their eyes open. They were already comfortable on Hinata's bed, and the futon hadn't been set out yet, and Kageyama closed the laptop and laid it on the ground before pulling the covers over them both.

"Is this okay?" Hinata had whispered.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Kageyama asked. "Go to sleep."

In that moment, anything was okay. Everything was okay. Because "anything and everything" was undefined, there was no label, no expectation. Hinata curling up against his chest, Hinata breathing soft and slow, with his hair tickling the underside of Kageyama's chin—that was more than okay. Hinata was close, and they'd reached the top, and they would stay together.

The next day, he got the offer to play overseas. And he couldn't have known at that moment, that Hinata would put a name on things soon, a finger against the pulse beating under Kageyama's skin. He wasn't ready for it, yet.

But for that night, anything and everything was perfect.

*

Living in Hinata's house is weird.

The first couple nights hadn't really been living, more like intruding. But it evens out after Christmas, even if Kageyama's main goal is still _don't piss him off; try to say the right things._

This is a departure from the norm, because Kageyama has never been worried about saying the _wrong_ thing around Hinata before. Probably eighty percent of every word he's said to Hinata since they met has been the wrong thing, and Hinata always gave as good as he got. But the way Hinata has slowly allowed him in—to his home, and his days, and his routine—is much like the time Hinata didn't let Kageyama intimidate him into standing aside during their first practice match at Karasuno, against Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.

He remembers the understanding back then, too, that Hinata had trusted him more than he'd deserved. Then, he had given Kageyama someone to toss to again; now, he's giving him the beginnings of a second chance. Kageyama can't afford blow it.

The thing with second chances is they stir up hope—and other feelings besides.

The first few days had been, really, an ebb and flow of panic for Kageyama. He had thought Hinata might at least be alright with hearing him out; getting the door shut in his face had not been a part of his plan (he hadn't had a plan, but if he'd had one, it would not have been a part). It had shaken him, because things had seemed impossible. He's already not good with handling more than one emotion at a time; stuck in surety that he'd already lost Hinata, he hadn't had room to devote thought to anything but _make it better._

But now it seems like there's a slim chance he's beginning to do that, and it's given him the chance to contemplate other things. Things he hasn't really been able to think about since university.

Seeing Hinata play again, up close and personal, had kind of flipped that on its head.

Neither of them is used to sharing a living space with another person, and despite Kageyama's best efforts, they are constantly getting in each other's way. The unexpected part is that it's not the crisis Kageyama feared it would be. He and Hinata had been used to this at one point, after all—they'd started staying over at each other's houses regularly in high school, and in university if a weekend opportunity presented itself, they'd grab it without fail. It meant more volleyball, more bickering, more carb-loading at the wrong hours.

So now, even though it's still a rebuilding period, things are familiar. Hinata doesn't seem to mind when Kageyama shambles yawning into the kitchen in the early mornings; even though they have to keep crossing behind and reaching over each other to get to the fridge, reach the cups, set the table. In school, brushing teeth used to be a fairly violent affair with the amount of jostling for the sink and trying to time their spitting to target the other person (Kageyama remembers Natsu being distinctly tired of them any time they were both over at Hinata's place). Now, he's treated to the sight of Hinata's wide eyes and ballooning cheeks as they both go to spit at the same time, draw back, awkwardly gesture for the other to go ahead. Hinata bursts out laughing at how ridiculous the situation is, and ends up spraying toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror and part of the wall.

"Gross," Kageyama says after he has rinsed his mouth in what he feels is a far more dignified manner. Hinata continues to howl, his mouth a foamy disaster zone. "Dumbass."

He's still getting used to saying his old insult with the kind of ease he used to; it used to be a reflex. Now he wonders if it's appropriate, if it will remind Hinata all over again of how mean and heartless and inattentive Kageyama can be.

But Hinata just grins. He finally deigns to gargle, loudly, before wiping his mouth and smacking his lips with a satisfied "Ahhhh!" Then he jabs Kageyama in the ribs. "Wanna watch a game?"

So really, there don't seem to be any downsides to trying to work around each other, now that Hinata has decided to let Kageyama stay. Except, well…

It can't be called a _downside,_ really; it's certainly a change of pace. In keeping with the whole "not used to living with others" situation, they both have bad habits that neither of them will manage to break in the span of a few hours. This leads to some moments that Kageyama would say he'd rather have avoided, only that would be a lie.

"Oh, crap, sorry!" Kageyama hears a voice yelp the morning of the twenty-eighth. In the same instant, he realizes he forgot to lock the bathroom door before he started stripping out of his clothes, a thing he normally doesn't have to worry about but that has now resulted in a grave miscalculation.

"Uhhh," he says, as he turns to see Hinata standing in the doorway, his hands over his eyes, a steadily deepening flush seeping across his cheeks. "I forgot. To lock it. That's my bad."

"No!" Hinata says. "No, I should have knocked, I forgot… also…"

Kageyama is still in his briefs, and it's not like Hinata hasn't ever seen him actually naked, but not in _several_ years; and also, of course, not before the big confession. Or before Kageyama had belatedly realized his own feelings. He feels more naked right now than he ever has under Hinata's eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Hinata squeaks again. He's still just standing there. He's now peeking through his fingers.

"It's—it's fine," Kageyama says. "Are you… did you need something from in here, or…"

"Oh, no! I didn't!" Hinata says, jumping back. He reaches forward and yanks the door shut. "I can hold it!"

"Hold it?" Kageyama calls. "D-do you need to pee?"

"I can hold it!" Hinata's voice wails again. It sounds like he might be running away. "I'll come back when you're not—just tell me when you're done!"

Later on, Kageyama can't help but notice the glances Hinata keeps sneaking in his direction, mainly because Hinata has never been stealthy about anything, in the slightest. They plan to take the train into the city that day to go to the Sumo museum, which has a new exhibition Hinata wants to catch before they change it in the new year. Kageyama asked to tag along and was readily accepted—Sumo might not be his thing, but it's another opportunity to spend time with Hinata, so he'll take it. Except now, Hinata seems determinedly grumpy, following the bathroom incident.

They board the train in silence, and Hinata plops down into the seat next to Kageyama's. He pretends to ignore him while shooting narrow-eyed looks at Kageyama when he thinks Kageyama isn't watching. Kageyama sighs.

"I'll remember to lock the door next time, okay?"

Hinata appears caught off guard. "Huh?"

"I can tell you're…" Kageyama considers. He doesn't want to accuse Hinata of anything. "I can tell something's up."

Hinata side-eyes him. "I'm not mad at you, so don't worry."

"Then… the _looks…?"_ He sits there expectantly as Hinata looks him up and down with what seems to be an inordinate amount of disdain for someone who supposedly isn't mad.

"There's no way our workouts can be that different," Hinata grumbles, "but you're still—" He gestures vaguely and crosses his arms.

"Still what?" Kageyama asks, totally at a loss.

"You're—you've still—" Hinata pokes Kageyama's bicep. "You've still got more _bulk."_

Kageyama can't help it. He snorts. Sensitivity just is never going to be his forte. "Well, yeah, I've always been bigger than you."

"Not even that!" Hinata says, irritably. "Just, since the _last_ time I saw you when you were—since last time!" He turns away, covering his mouth with his hand so Kageyama can barely make it out when he mumbles, "You're… bigger."

His face is hidden now but his ears are still visible and they are slowly going red. Kageyama looks quickly down at his lap, where his hands are balled into fists on his knees, like if he just focuses enough tension there his own face won't burst into flames. It's not working.

Things are back to normal by the time they get to the museum, but Kageyama can't help wondering if Hinata is patting his arms more often than he usually would in order to get Kageyama's attention when he wants it.

The very next day when Kageyama ambles out at their usual breakfast time, Hinata isn't in the kitchen. After a moment's hesitation, he goes to investigate. He hasn't really ventured near Hinata's room since the first night when he got soundly ejected from it.

"Hinata…?" he calls. "Do you… should I start on making… breakfast…"

He peeks into Hinata's room and then just stands there, staring.

For as long as Kageyama has known him, he's known that Hinata works out in the mornings, which is no surprise given his tendency to actually _be_ a morning person. Kageyama, on the other hand, prefers evening workouts right before he can crash into bed. They don't overlap very often, and as a consequence, have never had much reason to loiter around while the other one was exercising.

Now he's caught Hinata in the middle of his workout, it looks like, and Hinata hasn't seen him come in—he's doing pull-ups. He has one of those doorway mounted bars that fits inside of his closet, and his back is to Kageyama. His back is… a lot of things.

Kageyama thinks that Hinata has, probably, also filled out since he was twenty-two, and even then he'd been fairly—well. Toned. His back (his shirtless back) now is broad and flawless, muscles flexing under the sheen of sweat accumulated from the workout, rolling down his shoulders in fat droplets. He had seemed pretty impressed by Kageyama's biceps the other day, but his are certainly nothing to scoff at. A bit leaner, but they still bunch when he lifts his body up above the bar with every fluid motion. Kageyama can hear the way he measures his breathing, in, out, in, out…

Before he can quickly back out of the room, Hinata finishes the end of his rep and flips around, hand over hand, to face forward. Their eyes lock.

"Kageya—!" Hinata yelps, right before his hand slips and he accidentally flings himself off the bar, feet flying out in front of him as he plummets to the floor.

"Oh, shit—" Kageyama says, embarrassment momentarily forgotten as he rushes forward. He kneels down next to Hinata, who is lying flat on his back, staring up at the closet ceiling. "You alive?"

Hinata sits up, wincing. "You scared the crap out of me!"

Kageyama ducks his head in apology. "I was going to make breakfast, I was coming to check where you were."

"Ah, thanks," Hinata says. "I overslept a bit and got a late start…"

They both stare at each other, and then pointedly away. Kageyama sits back on his heels so his face is farther away from Hinata's. He's not sure he wants it to be, but it seems safer somehow.

"Do you, um," he says, "want some company?" He's prepared for a _no, thanks,_ which is fair, because it's a weird fucking question—but Hinata nods.

"Um, sure, if you want…" he says. "I have weights under the bed."

Kageyama hops to his feet. "Oh, I brought mine."

"Seriously?!" Hinata yells after him as he pads back to the guest room to retrieve them. "You remembered a towel and _dumbbells,_  but not the hotel room?"

It's surprisingly less awkward to carry on a conversation while both of them are breathing hard and sweating than Kageyama imagined it might be. Potentially because Hinata put on a shirt while Kageyama was rooting around in his duffel bag, but also maybe because Hinata decides right then is the best time to interrogate him, which draws most of Kageyama's focus.

"Are you being—one hundred percent honest—about the hotel thing—Kageyama-kun?" he needles. He speaks every time he raises himself into a sit-up.

"Yes!" Kageyama grunts, part annoyance, part exertion from the bicep curls he's started on. "I didn't… I didn't come back to lie to you. I wouldn't."

Hinata pulls himself up into a full seated position, tugging the small towel from his shoulders to mop at his face. "I know you wouldn't. What the hell were you thinking, though?"

"I wasn't," Kageyama says. He frowns mightily, focuses on his workout, the flex; because focusing on what he wants to say is trickier. "I just—I just knew I needed to be here, so I came. I bought a ticket, I grabbed stuff and put it in a bag, and I went to the airport. I thought I'd figure out what to do after I got here. Maybe go see my parents. But I wanted to talk to you first."

Hinata smiles. "So you really were going to just sleep on my doorstep until I listened to you."

Kageyama nods. "Unless you really wanted me gone."

"I think I remember telling you to leave when I first saw you," Hinata reminds him.

"Unless you really, _really_ wanted me gone."

"You must know what I'm thinking so well."

Kageyama finishes his rep and relaxes his arm. "I didn't want to walk away from you again."

Hinata's expression fades from amusement into stark surprise. It's humbling; because Hinata must know by now, he must realize on some level, what it all means. But his eyes are soft as he stares at Kageyama, like these are words that have caught him off guard, like he never expected to hear them—and that's not okay.

Even if Hinata understands, sometimes it just doesn't mean a fucking thing if Kageyama won't actually tell him.

Kageyama sets the weight he's carrying aside.

"I came back," he says, "because I missed you, too."

Hinata seems to be completely frozen for several seconds. Kageyama catches sight of his mouth wobbling, before he buries his face in his towel.

 _"Obviously."_ His voice is muffled and choked. He doesn't look up for a long time, and his shoulders shake once or twice, so Kageyama pretends not to notice and switches to working out his other arm. Eventually, Hinata pulls the towel away. His eyes look a bit glassy, but he's smiling broadly. "About time you admitted it, you jerk."

Kageyama isn't sure that making Hinata cry for several days in a row is really a victory as far as things go, but Hinata seems perfectly happy, so he decides to count it as a win.

"Like _you_ made any friends, of course you missed me," Hinata is saying smugly. Kageyama balls up his sweaty towel and nails Hinata in the face with it.

"I made friends!" Kageyama tells him. "I have lots of German friends. They liked me there."

"Alright," Hinata agrees, easily enough. "But they weren't your _best_ friend, were they?"

"No," Kageyama says. And then, figuring that he's been nice enough for one day: "My best friend is way more annoying."

The fact that Hinata doesn't comment on the fact he'd said "is" and not "was" makes up for how pissed off he stays with Kageyama, all the way through breakfast.

*

On December thirtieth, Kageyama agrees to go to a new year's party with Hinata. It's one of their old friends from university, a former teammate of Hinata's, so Kageyama doesn't feel totally out of place attending. But more significantly than that, Hinata asked _him_ to come, instead of Kageyama testing the waters first; there wasn't a chance in hell he'd have said no.

They take the train and discuss their own plans for omisoka the next night. Surprisingly, Hinata hadn't decided to go home as the last days of the year approached. Then again, he's had ample opportunity the past couple years.

"I went home every year!" he says. "You're the bad son, skipping town out of nowhere, and now that you're back—"

"I know!" Kageyama shushes him furtively, as though his mother can hear Hinata from back home in Miyagi. "My parents don't know I'm back _yet,_ they'll be fine—I was going to go back if you did, but here you are—"

"No, do not try to make this my fault," Hinata says. "The one year I want to go to Tokyo Tower—"

"Is that what you want to do?" Kageyama asks.

"Yes!" Hinata says. "I want to release a balloon for good luck."

Part of Kageyama wants to ask why Hinata waited until now to go to Tokyo Tower on New Year's Eve. Kageyama leans much more strongly towards the idea of udon and falling asleep while watching that year's Kohaku, but Hinata has been obsessed with Tokyo Tower since they were kids. He decides against prying. Instead, he starts to ask: "Mind if I—"

"Come with me." Hinata interrupts him before he can finish.

Kageyama bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling; there are other people on the train and he doesn't want to weird them out. "Okay."

The party they've been invited to is much more of a laid back gathering than Kageyama was expecting. Hinata has also kept his return a secret, it seems, and all the familiar faces there light up when they see him. It's nice to feel welcomed. He notices Hinata also seems pleased with the reception; he is very vocal about the fact that Kageyama is there thanks to him.

"What am I, some kind of medal you brought to show off?" Kageyama mutters, aiming for disgruntled and somehow only managing to sound begrudgingly pleased that Hinata is apparently proud to have dragged him along.

"Don't be silly," Hinata says, patting him on the back. "You're more like a trophy wife."

It takes Kageyama several seconds to register what he's said; Hinata has already flitted off to the next group to chat. Kageyama's mouth works soundlessly for a few seconds.

"Oy!"

Hinata looks over his shoulder and sticks his tongue out before cackling.

Kageyama is about to go after him when a hand drops down on his shoulder and a friendly voice greets him—politeness wins out, and he is soon trapped in a conversation with one of Hinata's old teammates, who'd been a few years ahead of them in school. It's not as bad as it could be; they talk volleyball, what he plans on doing now, and how he's liked the past couple years abroad. They talk for so long that Hinata drifts back over eventually, once he's done with the social butterfly routine. He stays uncharacteristically quiet, sipping a drink and listening.

"It sounds like you had a really great time over there," their senpai says, and Kageyama nods.

"It was really good," he agrees. "I learned a lot."

"Ah, well, that was always your thing, wasn't it?"

Kageyama scratches the back of his neck. "I guess so?"

"That's what Hinata always used to tell us." The man nods in Hinata's direction and Hinata perks up, looking surprised to be brought into the conversation. "He'd go on and on about you—how you were already the best, but you still kept managing to get better. Made us wonder whose team he really wanted to be on."

They laugh at that, but when Kageyama tries to catch Hinata's eye, Hinata seems determined not to look at him.

"Gonna go get another drink," the man says. "Either of you want anything?" They both decline, so he leaves them where they are, quieter than they had been before.

"It's nice seeing everyone again," Kageyama says. It's small talk, but it's true. He'd left in such a rush that he really hadn't ever said goodbye to anyone, but at least it hadn't been too final.

"I told you people missed you," Hinata says. Kageyama hums. "I haven't asked you much. About Germany."

Kageyama shrugs. "There's not that much to tell. I played a lot of volleyball."

"And you enjoyed it," Hinata says.

"Course I enjoyed it."

"No, I mean… you were doing really well, there. And you had a ton of opportunities overseas, still." Hinata frowns down at his drink. "You were happy."

"Yeah, I was," Kageyama says. He's not sure what brought this on.

"But you decided to come back," Hinata points out.

"Hinata…"

Kageyama looks around. Their senpai has gotten distracted talking to another group, and nobody else is really paying attention to them. He grabs Hinata's wrist and tugs, pulling him away from the lively party atmosphere, all the way over to the genkan of the house where it's quiet. Hopefully, nobody needs to leave any time soon.

"I might've been happy there, but that doesn't mean it was the only place I _can_ be happy," Kageyama says. "That's… that's something I learned, too."

"I know, but—"

"I told you why I came back," Kageyama reminds him. "It's because I _missed you._ " It's becoming easier and easier to admit that; to just _say_  it.

Hinata smiles at this. "And because you wanted to say you're sorry. And because you wanted to make me stay."

"Like I said," Kageyama shrugs, "lots of reasons."

"You haven't really tried to convince me to stay, in a while," Hinata says.

"What are you talking about?" Kageyama asks.

Hinata tilts his head, confused. Kageyama snorts. This little idiot, with all his frustration and stubbornness and capacity to forgive. He doesn't get it.

"All I've been doing is trying to convince you not to leave."

He wants Hinata to stay, desperately. He _came back_ for that, came back to play with him again. To be around him. But years earlier, when Hinata had wanted the same from him, he had left. So he knows he can't push. He can't demand it, and he certainly can't expect it.

"That's all?"

Hinata's question stops him in his tracks. He's staring up at Kageyama, plaintively; he still looks confused, and… hurt. Kageyama knows what Hinata looks like, now, when he's hurt—when Kageyama hurts him. But right now, he's not sure what he did.

"Hinata? What do you…?"

"I decided to leave when they told us," Hinata says in a rush. "That you were coming back."

Kageyama looks at him for a long moment, thinks about this. Hinata had told him that wasn't the case before, when Kageyama had first asked him the reason. "But, not because… you don't want to play with me anymore."

"No," Hinata says. "I didn't want to get left behind. If you could go off on your own, if you could do anything, anywhere, then why shouldn't I?"

"There's no reason," Kageyama says.

"I know that!" Hinata says. "I _know_ that. And having you back here—I didn't know if I could…"

"Could what?"

Hinata tries to laugh. "I just… didn't know if I could deal with it. It was a lot to feel."

And Kageyama gets that, too. He understands it better than anyone else, maybe even better than Hinata does.

He reaches his hand out and lets it land gently on top of Hinata's head, and Hinata allows Kageyama to ruffle his hair without complaint.

"I was right," Kageyama says. "You _did_ want to leave because of me." Even though it sucks that he's the cause of it, there's still a little bit of pride there, in having guessed correctly. He still knows Hinata.

"You had the wrong reason," Hinata mumbles.

That's true, and it means Kageyama can still hope—because Hinata _wants_ to play with him again.

"Hey," Kageyama says, "you'd come back for me, too, right? Eventually?"

Hinata shrugs. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On how far ahead I manage to get."

*

An overseas offer was huge. It meant an ever expanding field of possibilities, in a new home where he didn't speak the language. But it also meant leaving Japan behind.

Kageyama wasn't afraid of change. Change only meant moving forward, and that had always been his goal. So it wasn't that he was afraid, or nervous, in the wake of the offer.

But he was unsure.

He didn't know how to tell Hinata yet. He knew Hinata hadn't received a similar offer, because he would have said something right away. But all the next day after they'd both heard from the national team, Hinata had talked about one thing, and one thing only—playing together again, this time for Japan, on the world stage.

And Kageyama, who had never before doubted how fast and how far he wanted to keep advancing, couldn't bring himself to tell Hinata that he might be going on ahead, once again. And, days later, he still hadn't accepted either offer.

He noticed a missed call from Hinata late one night, after his workout, right before he was about to go to sleep. He called back.

 _"Hey! Kageyama, hey._ " Hinata sounded a little out of breath, and Kageyama could hear faint city sounds in the background. _"Are you home?"_

"I was getting ready for bed," Kageyama said. "Everything okay?" Just then, there was a knock on his door. He huffed, annoyed, as he went to go answer it. "Hinata, hang on, someone's at the door. Can I call you right back?"

 _"Uh, well, actually—_ " Hinata said, as he undid the lock.

Kageyama pulled open the door to see Hinata standing there, phone still held to his mouth.

"Hi," Hinata said, echoing in Kageyama's ear through his cell.

Kageyama stared at him. "Hi."

"Um." Hinata lowered his phone slowly. "We can hang up now…"

"What…" Kageyama ended the call, standing aside so Hinata could come in. "What are you doing here? You have practice tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yeah," Hinata said, waving his hand. "I just—I wanted to see you."

"Oh." Kageyama's stomach jolted in a warm, pleasurable way; but simultaneously, he felt those stirrings of uncertainty.

"I have to—" he started to say, at the same time Hinata blurted out,

"I wanted to tell you something!"

Kageyama blinked. Maybe the sudden arrival should have tipped him off, but he hadn't been expecting a point to the visit. Hinata had always been impulsive. And then he wondered, a bit wildly—could it be, maybe, that Hinata was in the same situation he was in?

"Do you want to sit?" he asked.

But Hinata shook his head. He had that strange, vibrating energy thing going on; like he couldn't keep still even standing in one place. "I'm okay, I'm too—what were you going to say?" He looked like he was going to explode if he didn't get to speak soon.

Kageyama rested a hand on top of his head, ruffling the strands of Hinata's soft hair. He couldn't remember when he'd started doing this… but it had been at Karasuno. He used to do it purely when Hinata annoyed him, grabbing his whole head like a volleyball and squeezing until Hinata shrieked. Eventually it turned out he could just rest his hand there harmlessly, and Hinata would calm down almost instinctively.

Hinata took a deep breath, his eyes closing.

"You go first," he told Hinata.

When he pulled his hand away, Hinata opened his eyes again, looking up at Kageyama. His gaze held steady.

"I'm in love with you."

Kageyama wished he'd been sitting down.

"I wanted to tell you," Hinata said. "For a long time. Even right after I got off the phone with the national team representative, I thought I'd tell you then—because I knew they would call you, I _finally_ knew we'd both be going together, that we'd—" He'd managed to keep his voice steady for a long time, but it finally cracked. "Th-there was just so much happening, and then, I didn't want to mess it up by—"

"Mess it up?" Kageyama choked.

"I wasn't sure," Hinata said. "I just wanted that night to be perfect."

Speechless, Kageyama reached out to him. He brushed Hinata's cheeks with his fingers, cupped his face in his hands, astonished that Hinata could just _say_ these things, that the words would even leave him like they did, open and honest and sure. He pulled Hinata to his chest, arms crushing around him in a hug.

"You wouldn't have messed it up," Kageyama told him.

Hinata seemed frozen, for a second, arms dangling by his sides as he stood in Kageyama's embrace. Then he slipped his arms around Kageyama's back, burying his face into his shirt. He was still small in comparison, even with how solid he was, and Kageyama folded him into his arms as best he could, pressing his nose into Hinata's hair. He must have washed it before coming—it was still fragrant, a little damp.

"I love you a lot," Hinata sobbed into his chest. "I really, _really_ love you."

They stood like that for a long time, with Kageyama rubbing Hinata's back slowly until Hinata had stopped trembling. He still squeezed Kageyama tightly.

"You should just stay here tonight," Kageyama said softly. "It's late already."

Hinata nodded slowly. "I didn't bring my stuff with me."

"Just borrow mine."

Hinata looked up at him. He was always a bit of a disaster when he cried, and he had to spend some time messily wiping his face dry. "What were you gonna tell me?"

"Ah," Kageyama said. It was like a band squeezing around his heart; a bit like the hug they'd just shared, but tighter, colder. "I—I got an international offer the other day. Germany."

He expected Hinata to look crestfallen; but Hinata stared up at him, eyes shining.

"Uwahhh," he breathed, "still as amazing as ever, Kageyama-kun." His voice was teasing, and this made even less sense to Kageyama. Hinata didn't seem to sense the conflict, at all.

Perhaps, he didn't realize there was one. He didn't realize Kageyama leaving was an option, anymore.

The weight, of too many decisions, too many emotions, all at once, were impossible. Kageyama hadn't been oblivious to everything. He had realized there were feelings there on both sides, but he didn't know what to call them yet; not Hinata's and especially not his own.

But Hinata had _known._ Hinata had apparently known for a long time, and it seemed unfair, it seemed horrible, that Kageyama was still so confused about so many things. He wanted everything to resolve itself in a way that he could understand, but instead, there were just more and more doubts, filling everything up.

Did he want to stay? And if he did, was it for Hinata, or himself, or some combination of the two? Could he turn away from such a huge offer, all because of his feelings?

And… what was he feeling? He didn't _know,_ the way Hinata did.

"Let's get to bed," he told Hinata.

He knew he had to make a decision; but not yet.

*

It takes Kageyama a long time to fall asleep after the two of them get back to Hinata's house after the party. Realization dawns that although he's finally navigated his way through all the questions he couldn't answer four years ago, it might still be too late to get back what he had. He has the sudden thought that if he could talk to Tsukishima about it right now, the other man would say that this is irony, or futility—or maybe it's just pathetic.

No; besides making it a point to ignore everything Tsukishima has to say as far as possible, even when Kageyama knows he's right—he won't feel sorry for himself. That is what landed him in this position in the first place, too much concern with trying to pin everything down when there was no need, only to have it all come undone in the worst ways.

It might be frustrating, and painful—coming back, seeing for himself how he'd singlehandedly crushed Hinata's unwavering trust and his heart because of his own uncertainties. For a long time, he'd tried to tell himself Hinata would get over it; Hinata would understand. But even if he understood, it didn't mean Kageyama had hurt him any less.

So instead of wasting time feeling bad, Kageyama will spend time making it right.

It's Hinata who surprises him first, though. The following morning, he sets Kageyama on breakfast duty, announcing he's going out and will return shortly. By the time Kageyama is laying out the table, Hinata barrels back in through the door with his arms full of groceries.

"What's all this?" Kageyama asks, eyes wide.

"If you're going to be here until the fourth, we gotta make osechi!" Hinata says, kicking the door closed. He's even bought juubako to store the food after it's prepared, as Kageyama sees when he starts to unpack everything. "I got soba for tonight, too!"

"I thought you wanted to go to Tokyo Tower," Kageyama says.

"We can go after," Hinata says, even though that means they'll have to eat the soba too early. He seems to sense Kageyama's confusion and waves his hands. "It's kind of a non-traditional new year for us both, anyway. And I know you still want to do all the food stuff."

"Oh, like you don't," Kageyama says.

Hinata grins and doesn't deny it. "I know you've probably gotten used to eating lederhosen or whatever in Germany—"

"Lederhosen… is not food."

 _"Or whatever,_ " Hinata emphasizes. "I figured this is the best of both worlds."

Kageyama doesn't point out that the reason he wants to do the food stuff is because it means escaping a noisy crowd and just spending the evening in with Hinata. If Hinata wants to do Tokyo Tower, they'll do Tokyo Tower. "Okay."

Kageyama has traditionally spent the end of the year holidays with his parents, even after he moved away for university. They're a quiet lot altogether, but he's grown used to the peaceful solitude of bidding the old year goodbye as the next comes to meet it. It did, at the very least, always give him a lot of time to himself to contemplate volleyball.

New Year's Eve with Hinata is a different beast altogether.

To make enough food for the three days following the start of the new year, they start preparing soon after they've both had breakfast and showered. Kageyama feels like he's been run over by a festive truck. Not ten minutes into starting to put together osechi, Hinata: spills a bag of soybeans across the entire kitchen floor; covers himself in mochi, and then subsequently covers Kageyama when he tries to rescue Hinata from his sticky fate; and nearly chokes on half a bitter orange after Kageyama bets him he can't swallow one.

"You know that's gonna make you have to shit, right?" Kageyama asks him as Hinata gags over the sink.

Hinata gargles with tap water, coughing a few times for good measure. "I didn't swallow it!"

"So I win the bet," Kageyama says smugly. He is busy making more omelettes and _not_ making a mess of everything.

It might be a noisier time than Kageyama is used to, but he doesn't mind in the slightest. They've fallen back into their old routine of frequent irritability and pestering one another—after finding out what it was like to be shut out of Hinata's life, being allowed to get under his skin again and suffering the consequences is the best new year's gift Kageyama could have been given.

Making the osechi is a hard-won feat, and by the time they've finished, it's getting late. But:

"We've still got to make soba!" Hinata yelps.

And so, by the time they manage to eat, get ready to leave the house, and rush to catch the train that will take them to Tokyo Tower, it is already well past nine p.m.

"I don't think that saying being late is  _entirely_ my fault is _totally_ accurate—" Hinata says as they exit the crowded train.

"It's entirely your fault," Kageyama says.

"Why?!"

"Because _you're_ the one who wanted to have the 'best of both worlds'—why else, dumbass?" Kageyama points out. "We could have skipped at least one of those things, or just _not_ come out tonight—"

"But you had fun," Hinata insists. "And you told me you'd come."

Kageyama sighs in an exaggerated show of exasperation, draping his arm around Hinata's shoulders. "I did." On both accounts.

They're relegated to standing towards the back of the crowd due to their late arrival time. Hinata impresses a group of nearby children when he crouches and then rockets into the air to try and see over everyone's heads.

"Quit showing off," Kageyama says mildly.

"I'm not!" Hinata pouts. "I want a balloon."

Kageyama has the advantage of being able to actually look over the crowd for more than a few seconds at a time, and he can see there are people passing out balloons stationed at various places around the edges.

"Don't move," he tells Hinata.

It takes longer than he would have liked, politely jostling his way through the throngs of people and then standing in a slow-moving line to reach one of the balloons. By the time he makes his way back to Hinata, it's just past eleven o'clock—less than an hour before the countdown, the balloon launch, and the first seconds of the new year.

The crowd has gotten even larger, and Kageyama can't see Hinata for the life of him. He has a moment of worried irritability—there's too many people, this is unnecessary, _where is Hinata,_ what if Kageyama can't find him in time—

The crowd shifts a little, and there Hinata is—standing in the exact same spot Kageyama left him, coat pulled tight around himself and hands shoved under his armpits to keep warm. He keeps looking around, searching for Kageyama; or maybe just looking, observing the place and the people. Hinata loves that, just being present at events like these, absorbing all that he can.

Kageyama thinks back to this time last year. And the year before it, and the one before—he'd come back to see his parents for one, and the others had been in Germany. And he hadn't been unhappy. He'd had friends, or family; he had a new year to look forward to; he had ended up right where he'd always wanted since he was a kid.

But, even with all that—he couldn't say he'd felt outright _happy,_ either.

A thought resurfaces, comes back to him, a memory from many years earlier. He'd just started at Karasuno, which was certainly no Shiratorizawa, or even Aoba Johsai. The coach he'd hoped to train with was no longer even at the school. Kageyama, with all his talent and innate skill and drive, had come from a powerhouse to a team that had all but faded into obscurity. It should have been nothing but a disappointment for him, to be there.

But when he'd tossed to Hinata, it had felt like fun. For the first time in a long time, he'd been really, actually happy; and not just because he'd been playing volleyball. It had been thanks to Hinata.

Kageyama squeezes his way back through the crowd. Hinata turns towards him just as he gets close and breaks into a smile that warms all of Kageyama, even in the near-January chill.

"Here," he says, deciding to return the favor. He thrusts one of the balloons at Hinata and then grabs Hinata's free hand, threading their fingers together and tucking their hands into his jacket pocket. "Better?"

Hinata blinks up at him before nodding. He leans into Kageyama's side, and that makes Kageyama feel warmer, too.

They pass the rest of the time taking turns sneakily pointing at people in the crowd and trying to guess their resolution for the new year. In what seems like no time at all, there's only a half hour left before midnight, then fifteen minutes, ten minutes, five…

"Hey, Kageyama," Hinata asks, as the moment draws near. He has to raise his voice a bit because the announcer is starting to ramp up, and the crowd and music is getting louder. "Have you decided on a resolution?"

"I…" Kageyama hasn't. He's had so much other stuff on his mind that he didn't even think about it. He shakes his head. "What about you?"

"I can't tell you! Then it won't come true!"

"They're not like wishes, stupid, you've got to actually do them yourself," Kageyama says. "Why'd you ask me, if you won't tell me yours?"

Two minutes to go. The lights on the tower are blazing bright blue. People start to hold up their balloons; they seem illuminated from the inside as they reflect the tower lights, like each one has a brilliant white star inside of it.

"Because you'd tell me anyway," Hinata says.

"Do _you_ have one?" Kageyama asks.

"Yeah." Hinata nods. "I've had one for a little while."

One minute to go. The clock on the tower comes to life, counting backwards from 1:00. Hinata holds his balloon up with the rest, beaming as he's caught up in the contagious excitement. He tilts his head back to look at all the lights, the timer, the balloons—everything about him radiates pure joy. Kageyama catches his breath looking at him.

After everything, all they've had to sort through after this past week, these past years, they've still reached this point. They are together; and Hinata is happy, right now, in this moment.

And Kageyama loves him just for existing.

Thirty seconds to go and he thinks of a new year's resolution.

"You know, in Germany," he says, "people kiss at midnight on New Year's."

Hinata laughs. "Like in America? Why?"

Twenty seconds.

"Nobody could really tell me why," Kageyama says. "I guess they just wanted to."

Hinata looks up at him. "I guess that's a pretty good reason."

Kageyama squeezes Hinata's hand tighter inside of his pocket. "Hinata."

"Mmm?"

Ten seconds—the crowd starts to chant along with the announcer— _nine… eight… seven… six…_ Hinata's attention is swept away easily, as it always is. _Five… four…_

"Three!" Hinata exuberantly shouts along. "Two!"

_One._

As Hinata's fingers loose from around the string, as hundreds of white balloons stream up into the sky like glowing ghosts, carrying away the old year—Kageyama takes Hinata's face in his hands and kisses him.

It doesn't last very long; but when he pulls away, Hinata's eyes are still closed, his lips parted open just slightly, still formed to the shape of Kageyama's.

"My resolution," Kageyama murmurs. "It was to kiss you."

Hinata's eyes open slowly. They're still standing so close that Kageyama can see all the little lights reflected in them, until Hinata steps back. He takes another step back, farther away from Kageyama.

Then he turns, and pushes away through the crowd, without another word.

Kageyama stands unmoving for a moment, shocked. Around him, everyone still celebrates, but he can't hear it; he doesn't register being jostled by the crowd, doesn't see the lights. He just sees the space where Hinata was.

For a moment—for that briefest second when Hinata had first opened his eyes—Kageyama _knows,_ it hadn't been unhappiness he'd seen there.

He runs after Hinata.

The crowd is dense, and he doesn't know which way Hinata went. He manages to break out the other side, where the crowd is beginning to dissipate, but it's dark, and there's still tons of people around. But then he spots a single small figure, disappearing into a solitary tree-lined path some ways away from the tower where no other people have wandered.

"Hinata!" he shouts, but Hinata probably can't even hear him with all the noise. He doesn't seem to be trying to run or evade Kageyama, either—it's aimless, wherever he's going. Kageyama chases him. "Hinata, stop!"

Hinata doesn't heed him until Kageyama catches up to him, grabbing his arm. It's only then that he jerks in surprise and tries to break free.

"Get—let go of me—"

"No!" Kageyama says. "Not until I figure out what's wrong!"

"You're still trying to _figure it out?"_ Hinata shouts, wheeling around to face him. _"Really,_ you can't put it together, after all this time?!"

"I thought I had!" Kageyama yells back, too frustrated to control his voice, his temper. "I thought—I mean, _fuck,_ it really seemed like you didn't hate me anymore!"

"Didn't _hate you?!"_ Hinata's voice is edging towards shrill, which means Kageyama is in danger of being punched, once again. "Great guess. Really getting close to not being a clueless—" Hinata flings out his arms out in frustration. "You're a jackass! You keep saying you want to make me stay, that you want to make it up to me! But you still don't care about what I'm feeling—"

"Why would I be here if I didn't care?" Kageyama takes a step towards him, furious. "Of course I care!"

"Then after everything," Hinata says, "everything I've said, you better be able to figure out why you can't just kiss me out of nowhere—"

"I don't know—"

"I told you that _'I don't know'_ isn't good enough!" Hinata shouts. "I told you that right from the start!"

Kageyama snaps his mouth closed. He stares at Hinata wordlessly. After a few seconds of silence, Hinata shakes his head.

"I know," he says hopelessly. "I know it was never fair of me, in the first place. To expect anything else." He shuts his eyes and his voice turns quiet. "But I can't… it just, I can't do it. I can't keep waiting."

 _Keep waiting._ Oh, shit. Oh, _fuck,_ Kageyama thinks. As Hinata turns his back, and starts to walk away, Kageyama remembers everything that's happened. He realizes. He never _told_ Hinata.

_It can't be "not yet", anymore. It has to be right now._

"I came back, because you wanted to lock me out in the cold. But you didn't."

Hinata stops walking. Slowly, he turns—his expression is understandably wary, confused, because what Kageyama has just said to him makes no sense. He hadn't, of course, known Hinata would let him in when he'd made the abrupt decision to return. But he'd hoped. And against his better judgment, Hinata had let him stay. Kageyama keeps talking.

"I came back because you still stayed with me on Christmas Eve. I came back because you still trusted me enough to spike my toss with your eyes closed, in front of everyone."

Hinata's eyes grow wider. He's listening; he looks, finally, no longer resigned—but hopeful. Kageyama walks towards him cautiously, almost afraid of startling him.

"I'm back because you missed me, and I missed you—because I've never had another best friend. Even if I _was_ happy, I'm happier  _right_ _now_ than I have been in the past… four _years."_

"Kageyama—" Hinata says, strangled, and Kageyama shakes his head.

"I came back because I saw you were leaving, and I know you want to be strong, too—but you're already strong. And I couldn't fucking handle it, Hinata, not when I was so close to being with you again. I had to try something, _anything,_ to make you stay."

"Why?" Hinata asks, barely a whisper. Kageyama steps as close to him as he can, and Hinata doesn't move away.

"Because you've _always_ been perfect," he tells Hinata, like he should have, years ago. "And I really, _really_ love you, too."

This time, when he kisses Hinata, Hinata kisses back. And Kageyama knows neither of them will run, again.

"Oh…" Hinata whispers, kiss broken only by his voice. His mouth is still warm against Kageyama's, they still breathe the same air together. "You… you really…"

Kageyama couldn't have even fathomed this, a week ago. He thought he'd lost this chance forever. Hinata's mouth trembles under his, and Kageyama tries to make up for that, too—cups Hinata's cheeks and brushes his thumb gently over Hinata's lips over and over, between every soft kiss he presses to them. He can't stop the smile that keeps getting in the way, either, even though he tries to bite it back, so he's not just beaming right up against Hinata's mouth. 

"K-Kageyama—" Hinata breathes, "n-not here… not—"

"Go back?" Kageyama asks. "It's going to be at least forty minutes until the next train…"

"I can wait." Hinata nods in a way that manages to be both dazed and emphatic, and Kageyama gives up on the not-smiling thing. He kisses Hinata's cheeks, which seems to stress Hinata out more. He's very cute. "I waited a long time before this."

Kageyama owes it to Hinata, to give him anything he wants; even if he just wants to stand here on this lonely park pathway, kissing Hinata until the sun rises the next morning.

"Let's go home," he says.

The journey is torturous. The train is so crowded from all the people heading home after the celebrations they almost don't make it on, and then they're smashed in the wall of bodies, after midnight; and all Kageyama wants to do is _touch Hinata._ Hinata keeps glancing at him with a look that is half total misery and half outright amusement, and Kageyama is going to kill him or kiss him, he can't settle on one.

Then there is the walk from the station back to Hinata's house, which might be _worse—_ because no one is around, but Hinata is still—

"You're being a little shit," Kageyama growls, as Hinata darts away from him again, giggling breathlessly. He's gotten in maybe three kisses, tops, and Hinata keeps running away in the middle of them. Kageyama resolutely refuses to chase him again.

"We're almost there," Hinata singsongs. "This is what you get, for being the worst for four years…"

By the time they get back inside, Kageyama is still in two minds about the killing or kissing thing. The door shuts and he pins Hinata back against it, slightly rougher than is necessary, and kisses the living shit out of him.

Hinata doesn't try to dodge, anymore. He wraps his arms around Kageyama desperately—the first time he's held Kageyama like that since the night he confessed, and realizing that makes Kageyama fall apart. It's been _four years_ and Hinata still let him come back.

"Fuck," he whispers, "Shouyou, _fuck."_

Hinata blinks up at him. "Like, actually? We could go to my room—"

"No— _yes,_ but—" Kageyama brushes his palm against Hinata's cheek again, then runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm just—I really _am_ sorry."

Hinata softens. "Well…" he says, "it took a little longer than it might have otherwise. But we made it." He presses his palms to Kageyama's face. "And now that you're here, I think I want to stay."

"You… you're…" Kageyama huffs uselessly. He did it; not just keeping Hinata with him. He loves Hinata, and he  _told_ Hinata. It's too much—he's feeling too much, again.

He doesn't mind it in the slightest.

"Tell me again that you mean this," Hinata whispers. "You really do?"

"I thought you could always tell when I'm lying," Kageyama says. Even now, he can't really resist teasing, and Hinata takes it well, smiling, eyes squeezed shut.

"I can," he says. "I know you mean it."

Kageyama nuzzles against him, brushing his lips against Hinata's neck, and Hinata gasps softly, breathing his name. All the frustrating tension of the past few days is finally melting away, and what follows in its place is warm and tight and good.

"Let's go to your room," Kageyama says, a little late.

There's no need to rush, and they have no intention of it. Kageyama kisses Hinata all the way back to his room, a kind of slow dance, the two of them walking in tandem—Hinata stepping backwards, Kageyama guiding his way. They bump into things, because Kageyama is too distracted by Hinata's lips to be the most effective leader. Finally, they get through the doorway, and he sits Hinata down on the bed before pausing to strip his shirt off. Hinata makes a strange nose as he tosses it aside.

"What?" Kageyama asks.

"Show off," Hinata murmurs.

"Wha—I'm not!"

Hinata grabs his hand and yanks him forward. Kageyama stumbles onto the bed, and in seconds has to accommodate his very eager best friend climbing into his lap. Hinata's hands are _very_ inquisitive.

"Yes…" he murmurs, tracing over Kageyama's shoulders, his arms, then over his chest and stomach, _slowly._ "Yes, you are."

Kageyama swallows hard. "I'm…" He thinks back to the morning he walked in on Hinata working out. _Hmm._ "M-maybe you should show off a little more, then."

Hinata glances up from where he's been staring very intently _not_ at Kageyama's face. He smiles slyly. "Well, help me out, Kageyama-kun. It's the least you can do."

Okay—Kageyama takes a deep breath, sliding his hands under Hinata's shirt. He traces over Hinata's hips—soft, narrow—then lifts his shirt a little bit at a time, fingers bumping over the grooves in his abdomen, the planes of his chest. _Okay, okay._

"You look like you're about to freak out," Hinata says, once his shirt is off.

"I am about to freak out."

"Better idea," Hinata says, "kiss me instead."

"Yeah." That's a way better idea.

Hinata lays back, tugging Kageyama down on top of him, and Kageyama comes willingly. Hinata is definitely _showing off,_ he thinks, but he won't call him out over it; not when Hinata looks and feels so good beneath him, arching into his every tiny touch, every brush of his hands.

Kageyama had wanted this, too, for a long time—but it had been too hard to think about after he left. He'd had a few very brief encounters that never got much farther than awkward, roaming hands; it had always been so underwhelming. There had always been the reminder gnawing at him, that whatever he could have had with Hinata—the one person who lit up that spark in him—he'd stupidly given up.

Not anymore. Touching Hinata is _overwhelming,_ and it's better than he thought it would be.

They keep shedding clothes, jeans come off after much maneuvering and hardship, and it turns out getting naked with someone is a lot more cumbersome than just deciding to make it happen. Hinata has the audacity to laugh at him when Kageyama seemingly forgets how to make buttons work, but in his defense, he doesn't think his hands have ever shaken this hard.

Hinata grabs them between his own once he proves victorious, kicking out of his jeans, and they're both down to their underwear.

"Are you nervous?" Hinata asks him. He must sense the answer is yes; he brings Kageyama's hands to his mouth and kisses his fingers, and Kageyama suddenly feels like he could conquer the whole world, probably. "Can we just—I think I'm out of condoms, it's been _awhile_ —"

Kageyama balks at that—he will need to build up to it—and Hinata gets it right away.

"These have gotta go, though," Hinata tells him, tugging on the waistband of his briefs. "I've waited, like, seven years to touch your cock, Kageyama—"

"Are you," Kageyama gurgles, "trying to kill me before we even—"

"Off!" Hinata commands, and Kageyama leaps into action, swearing as he wriggles around on the bed, trying to divest himself of his underwear. Hinata beats him, which is even more annoying somehow, but the upside is that Hinata is also naked and…

And he's really, just, really gorgeous.

Kageyama is breathing heavier than he does after most practices, but he reverses tack, all his breath getting caught up in his lungs as he looks at Hinata, lying there in bed, limbs languid and askew. Hinata doesn't look at all reserved about being on display. On the contrary, he seems to be relishing it; and he spreads his thighs wider under Kageyama's gaze, smiling up at him eagerly. Kageyama might be having a heart attack.

He says, "I was really fucking dumb."

Hinata bursts out laughing.  _"_ _Was?"_

He's fluttering his hands at Kageyama irresistibly, a little _come, come,_ and so Kageyama does—lowering himself to bury his face into Hinata's neck. He still can't really believe he gets to do this, just lie here with Hinata together, without anything in between them. Hinata is all warm, pliant body under him. He's worked up a pretty good sweat and Kageyama greedily breathes in his scent; he has always really liked the way Hinata smells after a hard workout, though this may be one thing he never, ever tells Hinata, even on pain of death. He's spent too many years complaining about Hinata draping his sweaty body all over him during and after practices.

"I was dumb," he resolutely says again. It's the same thing as an apology. "I thought feeling like this meant I had to toss everything else aside. But it didn't."

Hinata strokes his hair, both fond and vaguely incredulous. "Why would you think that?"

Before, it didn't even make sense to Kageyama, which was part of the reason he panicked. But now it does.

"It's just a strong enough feeling that I _could_ do anything for it," he explains. And then, for good measure, so Hinata knows _how_ serious it is: "I've never felt like that about anything besides volleyball." Hinata snorts, but Kageyama knows he understands that. "I want to be with you so much it scares me. But I'm okay with it, too."

Now Hinata's hands are shaking—he's trembling, beneath Kageyama, so much that Kageyama can feel it. "Be with me, then."

He kisses Kageyama again, slowly, this time. Deeply, no more soft overtures. Kageyama feels more than hears him sigh, as Kageyama presses into him, too—tongue slipping past Hinata's lips to explore his taste, the sounds he makes. They're all perfect.

Kageyama has never been _like this_ with anyone else; in any sense. Not emotionally; and not physically, either. But he knows he's supposed to do something—he knows he wants to move. He wants to feel that connection he and Hinata have always shared, through glances and understanding and the way they play together, expressed in a way that's more tangible. He's wanted it for years, he used to think about it in college, after lazy nights and too much beer—it was Hinata's brave, certain fingers over the fabric of his jeans he thought about when he touched himself, wondering fleetingly how they'd feel on his bare skin.

He's wanted so badly to be with Hinata, just like this.

Hinata's skin is hot, slick, under Kageyama's touch, under his body—Kageyama is heavier, but Hinata isn't fragile by any means, and he holds Kageyama tight, so the full length of their bodies press together. And when Kageyama decides to be brave himself, rocking his hips down against Hinata's tentatively, it's like the sensations explode; rattling through him, electric at all the places they're connected as they slide against one another, chests, stomachs, thighs. 

Hinata cries out, and he sounds beyond anything Kageyama could have imagined, or hoped for. Kageyama knows he feels those sparks, too—and Hinata, as always, gets his  _fill._ His hands are not shy, they're curious, they're insatiable, fingers digging into Kageyama's muscles as he drags his hands down Kageyama's back, rocking with him. They're both hard, slippery where their cocks have leaked over Hinata's stomach, friction building heat and pleasure and—god, it feels so good, Kageyama's head is spinning. Hinata knows how to move him, knows how to move _for_ him, hips rolling to meet each of Kageyama's thrusts.

"To-Tobio—" Hinata gasps, and Kageyama shudders, head to toe, at the sound of it. His name, said like that, by Hinata. "Tobio, I n-never—never wanted to hold you back. I—"

Kageyama kisses him silent—he knows, he _knows_ how wrong that was. How much that must have hurt Hinata. Hinata could never hold him back—because he's strongest when he's with Hinata.  

"M'sorry," he breathes, and the words feel maybe as good as his oncoming release. He needs Hinata to know how sorry he is, for all of it.

Hinata pulls him even closer, slides his legs up to wrap them around Kageyama's waist, thighs pressing against him tight. He's so _warm,_ and sturdy, and _there._

"I w-wanted this," Hinata moans, as Kageyama rocks against him, brings him where he wants to be, right up against the edge— "I wanted this for such a long time, I wanted _you—_ "

And this is something that Kageyama does know, that they've both known, but it doesn't change the way it makes Kageyama ache, hearing it said. 

"Me, too," he manages to whisper; his tongue is heavy from bliss, his words drip with it, "I wanted you, I always have—"

Hinata seizes up. He sobs, high and desperate, and then babbles,  _"A-ah, I'm—"_

That's all he manages before he comes, muscles spasming, voice choking out of him in a stuttering sob. Kageyama feels the shocks run right through him, as Hinata's eyes slip shut, mouth falling open, one full body shudder, two, _three—_

"Tobio…" Hinata murmurs again, his voice hazy and happy, and Kageyama's done.

He spills over Hinata's stomach, eyes watering from the force of it—it twists his stomach with pleasure and Hinata tugs him in to kiss him on top of it. That's the best part—he shivers uncontrollably, groaning into Hinata's mouth, and Hinata coaxes every last bit of it out of him to taste it, swallow it down.

He collapses, aftershocks still chasing each other through him. He can't stop shaking, and Hinata turns, brushing his hair away from his face to kiss his sweaty forehead. Kageyama wants to tell him not to, that it's gross, but he can't. He loves it.

"That was amazing," Hinata says, unabashedly, and Kageyama whines, hiding in the crook of his neck. It _had_ been amazing, but he is still naked and now sticky, and wondering if he made any strange faces when he came. Embarrassment follows swiftly, and Hinata seems to sense it, hugging him tightly.

"It _was_ amazing," Kageyama eventually murmurs in agreement, after all his nerves have been alleviated by an appropriate amount of kissing.

Hinata beams at him. "Well, I'm glad you think so."

Kageyama hides his grin in the pillow.

"Tobio?" Hinata says next. Kageyama likes that this first-name business might become a thing.

"Mmm?"

"I wouldn't ever ask you to give up on your dreams because of me."

Kageyama raises his head to look at him. "I know." He's still sorry; but he also likes all the things he's certain of now, how he doesn't need to say _I don't know,_  anymore. He kisses Hinata again for good measure. "I don't think my dreams changed. I think I just didn't get it until I fucked everything up as much as I did."

Hinata brushes Kageyama's nose with his own, mouthing softly at Kageyama's lips. His teeth catch and he bites, gently. "What do you mean?"

"I still can't see you and playing volleyball as separate," Kageyama says. "It's because I love you, though."

Hinata stops kissing him to squint at him. "…Me or volleyball?

Kageyama flicks his forehead. "You know which, idiot."

In response, Hinata reels him back in and kisses him full on—by the time they remember the necessary evil that is air, Hinata has to pull back with a loud gasp. He's breathless and pink-faced, his lips red and swollen, and Kageyama barely takes a breath before he leans in again. But Hinata puts his hand up to block him.

"Did you just confess to me by telling me you love me as much as you love volleyball?"

"No, I confessed at Tokyo Tower," Kageyama says. "I had, like, an entire speech."

"Okay, but—"

"Is that _really_ that hard to believe?" Kageyama cuts him off.

Hinata starts to grin. "No. I was just checking—that's why I love you in the first place."

Kageyama tilts his head. "Because of volleyball?"

"Obviously," Hinata says. "But also because you love what you love; you're honest."

He lowers his hand as if to say, _continue,_ and Kageyama decides he will, thank you very much.

"Mhm," he murmurs, as he ghosts his lips across Hinata's before moving lower; kisses Hinata's jaw, up to his ear, and down again over his neck. "I love you. I love you."

Hinata smiles, content. "It's about time you told me."

*

There's absolutely no way they manage to wake up in time to catch the first sunrise, but they do eventually get out of the house to make a shrine visit later in the morning. The lines are long, and Kageyama can't stop yawning. Hinata steals his trick from the night before, thrusting his hand unceremoniously into Kageyama's pocket to intertwine their fingers together.

He only removes his hand when they reach the front of the line. Kageyama fishes five yen out of his pocket to throw in the offering box, and they both ring the bell, bow, clap their hands.

Kageyama closes his eyes to pray and realizes, again, that he has not thought this through. He doesn't know what to pray for, because—

He squints his eyes open for a brief second to sneak a glance at Hinata next to him. Hinata's eyes are tightly closed, and his lips are moving, though no sound comes out. He bows one last time and Kageyama snaps his eyes forward again, squeezing them closed.

He doesn't need to ask for anything; prayers of thanks are perfectly acceptable.

As they stroll away from the shrine, Hinata elbows him in the side.

"Resolutions don't count if you meet them in the first ten seconds of the new year, by the way."

Kageyama snorts. "It's an ongoing resolution." This is actually true; he'd kissed Hinata plenty last night, and he still intends on doing it quite a bit more. "It's not fair that I told you my resolution, but you won't tell me yours."

"It's nothing special," Hinata says, grinning.

"What is it, then?" Kageyama needles. "It won't matter if you tell me, mine still came true a bunch."

Hinata sighs happily. He turns his face towards the sky to let the sun shine on it, and takes a deep breath of new air.

"It was just—keep looking up. That's it."

He bounces away and Kageyama watches him go, a silly smile working its way across his face. And then he's running forward, because there's a sign announcing adjusted times for the shrine gift shop directly in Hinata's path, and Hinata is too busy looking at the clouds to see it.

"I think I have a second new year's resolution," Kageyama tells Hinata, who is already insisting that he saw the sign and would definitely not have walked right into it.

Hinata feigns contemplation for a very long time, before giving him a boisterous thumbs up. "I'll allow it!"

Kageyama rolls his eyes. "Thanks."

"Aren't you gonna tell me what it is?"

"It's nothing special."

"Tobioooo…"

"Be here," Kageyama says, cutting off Hinata's whining. "To catch you."

Hinata's walk slows. He turns to face Kageyama, and his eyes—spark. His smile is fiercely happy. 

"Maybe I'll borrow that one, too," Hinata says. He holds his hand out to Kageyama. 

It's not so much a resolution for the year as it is forever; but they both know that well enough.

Kageyama doesn't hesitate. He reaches out, and takes Hinata's hand—and Hinata pulls them both forward, into the new year. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We could be kings of the world, on top of the nation  
> It's a celebration of the moments to come  
> The city's on fire, we're holding up lighters  
> Raising them higher and we've only begun
> 
> Take me all the way  
> Hear me when I say  
> Let's kiss the past away  
> [Like New Year's Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZsJt7j96n0s&list=PL8RWissld6x9QvoPBlkyYrHGFbC0Sp0oZ&index=17)
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read this fic! I was _very_ determined to write it, and all the kind words and encouragement and excitement means so much to me. You are all wonderful  <3 Here's to a beautiful 2018!

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


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